Day 22, 2017 Carrión de los Condes to Moratinos

ACCOMMODATION

To preserve and house

old wine or tired pilgrims,

planning is required.

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53°, partly cloudy, heading into rain

I left late today at 9:15 but by early afternoon, I reached Terradillos de los Templarios, a former stronghold with historical links to the Knights Templar and Jacques de Molay, the Grand Marshall of the order. This was the place where I was brought back to health last year with help from 5 Slovenian monks. It was a critical point in my last year's Camino and memories came rushing back instantly upon entering. It was here I remembered leaving one of mom's blue beads on the gate entrance and went to look. Nope, not there. Too much time had passed...

I stayed a while in the albergue restaurant before walking on to Moratinos, and after having run into Lisa from Germany. She was dismayed to find the albergue in Terradillos full so Jacqueline and I recommended she walk on with us to Moratinos to find a place to stay. Compared to last year, there seemed to be three times more pilgrims walking. It was now essential to book the night's lodging a day ahead. This limited the spontaneity and freedom to walk however far was comfortable, but allowed a more leisurely pace, since the next place I stayed knew I was coming. Regardless of any benefit, I wish booking..com didn't have such a hold on Pilgrims. 

We all layered up and walked in pouring rain into a strong headwind. I leaned forward with head down, hardly looking up until standing next to the albergue in Moratinos. Nearby there was a circle of 500-year-old bodegas, some of which had caved in or were boarded up. There were a few still intact although all were locked, providing no entrance. I wondered if the locks still secured preserved wine or other provisions. I wandered around, wishing I had an umbrella, and looked through small, broken glass "windows" into dark chambers. I was curious why some still stood and others did not. Were they built at different times out of different materials by different people? Perhaps some were better designed than others and along with these factors accounted for the varying degrees of needed repair.

Drenched and cold, I headed for a cafe to warm up and to eat with other pilgrims. I sat around a long table with Jacqueline and Lisa and her friends, hearing mostly German. Lisa showed her gratitude for the Moratinos albergue recommendation by buying a round of delicious almond cake. In return, Jacqueline and I taught her the game of "Dead Face", taught to us by Sean from Australia. It's difficult to explain the game but the winner was the one who could keep from laughing the longest. Hard to do and fun to play. Laughter truly is contageous and knows no language!

I did learn one phrase in German today....nein schnarchen (no snoring), which will come in handy when staying in large albergues! Today, I was just grateful to have a bed in a warm place. Some were not so lucky.

 I've passed the 1/2 way mark. Onward!

Day 21, 2017 Boadilla del Camino to Carrión de los Condes

6K IS 6K

Willingness to change

after first charting a course

can have its advantage.

Departed at 7:15; arrived 4:00. 
48° no rain but overcast. 

My first thought this morning was that it was only 6K until the first town and my cafe con leche. Well, that and what a beautiful day it was. That, and how fortunate I was to be able to walk the Camino. That, and how my eyes were really bad in the morning and how glad I was that there were arrows!

The path followed canals today. It was lovely. I walked along the straight, seemingly endless path, and came to a big, yellow house, reflected in the water. I crossed a small bridge just outside the town of Fromista, over locks that released water level by level. I remembered both from last year. 

Sparrows frantically circled overhead. I wondered if they're anticipating rain and hoped not. 

Six kilometers went quickly and before I know it I was in a familiar bar having a cafe con leche and a croissant. I turned to leave and literally ran into Jacqueline from Germany, who I met back in Burgos. I also saw Christina and Lisa from Germany. It was great to see familiar faces. I sat with them and had another coffee. 

I walked with Jacqueline who was born in Holland and now lives in Berlin. Our pace was the same and our conversation made the kilometers go quicker. We talked for a little bit what "my Camino" means. It seems it's about this time on the journey when people begin to define their individual Camino. This journey is the same and it is different for everyone. 

I heard cuckoo birds and tree flogs along the way, walking an alternative route, parallel to a river. This part of the route was also familiar. I remembered from last year that I would walk straight (for hours) until I saw a big white house on the hill. I wished the house would appear.

Once to the town where I originally planned to stop, I was able to go into the church (which was closed last year) where King Alfonzo, the somethingth said "the white virgin" could cure pilgrims. I silently asked for a cure...for whatever. 

Jacqueline talked me into walking an extra 6 km further than I'd planned and recommended a stay in an old monastery on the outskirts of town. I felt like I was tempting fate a bit since the town I'd planned to stop was where I was so hurt with tendinitis last year. I didnt plan to push it any further. After all, 6k is 6k. 

But, it was onward, 6k more to the outskirts of the town and to the Monastery. The grounds were impressive and quiet and the monastery itself, the most comfortable place I'd stayed. Changing plans and going farther than I'd intended was well worth the effort. 

Tomorrow, I pass the 1/2 way mark. Time rushes on...

Day 20, 2017 Castrojeriz to Boadilla del Camino

THE STROLL

On long journeys,

neither the ups nor the downs

are more difficult.

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Departed at 6:30 AM

My guidebook indicated it would take four hours to Boadillla but slow walking, a gigantic hill and several stops added a couple more.

I think I was the first one out the door this morning. I was just laying there waiting for daybreak because the snorers were in full force! I got little sleep; I couldn't get away fast enough.

I left in the dark. My poles clicked on the cobblestone. The rooster crowed, the birds sung, the bell tolled, but the streets were quiet. I knew this route. There was a hill coming...a big hill. So I took it slow. I thought of it as a stroll.

After the meseta mountain was tackled there was still an 18% downhill grade to contend with. I took note, believing this was where I strained my tendon last year, moving way too fast. I went slowly and even walked backwards.

All along the way I tapped the tip of my pole on stone Camino markers with cairns atop as a simple hello to mom. Last year I randomly left blue beads on some and although time had passed, I still looked for a bead...and thought what joy it would bring if I saw one.

An old man walked toward me on the road and stopped. In Spanish, he excitedly told me what a beautiful day it was to be walking to Santiago. "Estupendo", he said; then, "buen camino". The Spanish take such pride in this journey. It was amazing to witness.

There was another man out on a tractor, tilling the earth between rows of grapevines. I could smell the rich, chocolate-colored soil and was reminded of the "home-brew festival" up ahead in Galicia. Some crops haven't yet been planted, but some are already coming up. Soon, manure will be mixed with water and sprayed as fertilizer... quite the olfactory delight. It's a festival... maybe better missed. For now, sprinklers and pivots worked to irrigate the crops and atop two of the posts sat Heckle and Jekyll...I wondered, were they crows or magpies?

Shade on the left side of the road gave momentary reprieve from the small, swarming pests that like to attack the face. Some pilgrims wore bandanas over their nose and mouth. Me, I just pressed on, staying left as much as possible.

I loved this walk today! I had no urge to put in my earbuds. The sound of birds, tractors and sometimes even conversations behind me were my music. And, the snails were out. Their speed reminded me again to go slowly as they made their way across the road. It occured to me that I, like them, carried my home on my back.

Over the hill I could see my final destination. It looked close but it was still maybe 4km away.  I knew the place where I would lay my head. After last night's snore fest, I needed a good night's sleep so I stayed in the hotel I did the year before. Thoughts of a warm shower, a home cooked meal and comfortable bed, made my pace quicken...ever so slightly. 

One either likes or dislikes the monotony of the flat, tedious landscape with it's occasional, steep hill that is the Meseta. The rhythm of pole and step can cause one's mind to wander and allow memories, sometimes long forgotten to rise to the surface. I am generally a reflective person so I welcomed what the Meseta offered. It all provided an opportunity to do what I already like to do...remember and make sense of things. So, I strolled on with a big smile and even an occasional whistle.

 

Day 19, 2017 Hornillos del Camino to Castrojeriz

354K AND COUNTING

Nearly halfway there,

the entrance to the city

is a welcome sight.

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7:30am departure, 40°

354k/220miles walked so far.

This IS the Meseta!

I had a good sleep last night except for when my phone alarm went off in the middle of the night and woke me and everyone else. It was surprising since I don't set an alarm. I’m not sure which was worse, the blaring sound of the alarm in the quiet of the night or the irritating sound of rustling plastic bags in the morning as pilgrims prepared to leave, but I'm fairly certain, those in close proximity of my phone would say the former. 

Soon enough, the morning came. I said goodbye to the Italians, who so warmly welcomed me the night before, and was out the door before breakfast. The day was warmer than yesterday and two layers instead of three was plenty. Birds sang as the sky lightened. The path, though sometimes narrow, was straight and the sky big.

I rarely listened to music while I walk but today with earbuds in, the music of choice was Knopfler and the Mavericks. I'm sure it looked crazy but it was hard to resist doing the "majorette",  swinging my sticks in front of me when the beat got going. I was reminded of how walking sticks become an extension of arms, kind of like snow skiing when skis become an extension of feet. It's easy to get going too fast, risking injury. So, even though the beat was sometimes quick, I told myself to slow down. 

The towns on the meseta are not visible until you are right upon them. You crest a hill, look down and there they are. Case in point is the town of Hontanas. It seems to rise from nowhere, visible only from on top of a hill. I walked down. It was steep. I went slow. At a familiar cafe, I stopped for cafe con leche, orange juice and an Aquarius water. I remembered the last 9K into Castrojeriz was long and tedious. I was certain the arches entering the city would be a welcome sight. 

It was just outside of Hontanas where I was fairly confident I found my "twig" in the exact place I found it last year. Made me laugh. Another déjà vu? Maybe, maybe not. Finding a twig is reference to the fact that there is little to hide behind on the meseta so one should have planned accordingly or risk exposure....last years tribe will certainly understand. 

I kept seeing little worms cross the path, one by one but not in a row like the caravan I saw a few days ago. I imagined them, like me, trying to find their tribe, but content being solo. There's something about being alone. There's no one to remind you, no one to show you the way, no one to determine for you how you feel. And then there is the loneliness. It's a give and take.

A biker just rode by. I made him smile by shouting, "allez, allez" and I thought how fun the Camino might be on a bike...at least on the flat meseta. Those who walk are generally not fond of those who ride, especially those without a bell. Most often, walkers are alerted from behind when bikers approach and the grouchy ones are usually the ones who react slowly. Personally, I prefer to urge them on. Afterall, it's their Camino.

Today’s walk followed a thin ribbon path until the last kilometers where it met the road. The day was long. Exhausted, I approached the arches at the entrance to Castrojeriz. It was a magnificent and familiar site...as I remembered it would be and I was glad to finally be able to stop.

 

Day 18, 2017 - Burgos to Hornillos del Camino

YOU HAVE BEEN AND ALWAYS SHALL BE

New or familiar,

there are unlikely friendships

that last forever.

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It's cold but no rain, 32°

Departed at  7:45am

There were times on the Camino where I felt like I was having a déjà vu. I wondered if it was because I'd walked these roads before or if something familiar just made me feel like I'd been there before. I wondered, was it a déjà vu or was it a bonjour...a do-over or a hello?

The walk out of Burgos was not fun. It was along highways, under highways and over highways. I now considered it a blessing to have had to stay an extra day because of illness since those who walked yesterday were met with rain and 30mph headwinds. Today, although cold was not wet or windy.

It was the first day on the Meseta, the high plateau of central Spain. The landscape was wide with wheat fields on either side of the path and not much else. The road was flat with an occasional steep hill. My pace was quick; the day's walk fairly easy. I was the first to arrive at my albergue at 1:00pm. I quickly accomplished the routine of showering and washing clothes. I relaxed and although it was chilly, sitting outside with the warm sun on my face was comforting. I had been in this place before...I could sense the friendly ghosts.

I awoke from a blissful nap to the sound of loud voices, loud laughter and the rustle of backpacks. The albergue filled with a group of Italians. Barbara, the most boisterous of the group introduced herself and although she knew no English and I, no Italian, we shared smiles and laughter and successful charades. The lone American girl was welcomed. I wondered if I had found a new tribe.

We all met for a dinner of salad, bread and paella. Since I stayed here last year, I anticipated how mouthwateringly good it would be and was not disappointed. Dinner was filled with conversation, more laughter; even song. I felt accepted by those with whom communication was difficult. There was great comfort and security as these new friends become part of my Camino family. Relationships form quickly on the Camino...and many friendships are lifelong. 

Today was May 1st. I've delivered a bouquet of flowers to my mom on May Day for more years than I can remember. Today was no different except they were delivered to a different place and since I was across the pond, my husband was the one to carry on the tradition. He took flowers for me to the cemetery and laid them by mom's grave. Love, like new or familiar friendship, despite time or distance, can last a lifetime...perhaps even beyond. 

Day 17, 2017 - Burgos Rest Day

SUPINE

Still wanting to walk, 

an unexpected illness

stopped me in my tracks. 

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39° and raining ALL DAY. 
Today was a day of rest, albeit unplanned and unexpected. I heard bells and raindrops outside my window as I lay supine in my bed. I've been so careful with my leg, slowing down just enough. For some reason, though I'm having not only to slow, but stop.

I have to admit it's not a bad place to spend time, Burgos is an historic town and truthfully, I'd rather be napping than walking in a cold downpour. So, here I am. My tribe and the wave go on without me. I wanted to walk the Camino solo and I'm being given the chance. 

After a whole day of rest, I still didn’t feel my best and was hardly hungry, but when asked, I met friends and walked together with cheap umbrellas in pouring rain, until we found an agreed upon restaurant. The menu was varied and we all splurged and ordered a different three course meal. The food tasted good but by dessert I had to leave. Maybe my body had finally succumbed to the stress of walking 12-15 miles a day or maybe I just wasn’t used to rich, delicious Spanish cuisine. At any rate, bad became worse and I spent not just one rest day but two, hardly seeing the town at all.

Note 1 to self, don't eat if you're not hungry.

Note 2 to self, believe that you will see the tribe again.

Note 3 to self, give your body rest until strength returns.

It wasn’t in my plan but I learned if I don’t stop when I should, the Camino will stop me. I’d planned on walking through this town but ended up staying two days. When plans aren’t my own, I believe there’s a reason. I’m listening. 

Day 16, 2017 Ages to Burgos

CAMINO ANGELS

Solo, not alone.

Others along the way help

decide our choices.

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27° 
8:00am departure

I thought I was organized but sadly I was not. As those in my room in the albergue began to stir, I realized the pants I would wear were across the room in my locker and being in mixed company, I waited, cocooned in my sleeping bag until the last hombre was packed and headed for his cafe con leche and pan y mantequilla. I then layered up to brace the elements and covered my pack in case it rained. 

It was cold, but as I FINALLY headed out, the sky looked as if it would hold, maybe even clear. I concluded I most likely would walk solo; not seeing any of my tribe because of my late departure. They were sure to reach Burgos before me and once in the large town, I probably wouldn't run into them. 

It's quiet and frosty and I walk my pace, along with birds who seem to chart my course. It occured to me as I thought about the millions of pilgrims who have walked before me, that I have also walked this path and climbed these hills and mountains before. I am one of them. It's humbling. 

I'm asked on occasion why I would choose to walk the same Camino in the same season having walked it only last year. Why would I do something so hard, twice? And I'm beginning to better articulate my answer. Sometimes doing something hard provides such reward that the difficulty is forgotten and when/if the opportunity to repeat the experience comes along (although the conditions will be different), it should be seized...maybe like running two marathons or having two children. If I can, why wouldn't I? So the real question is not why, but why not? And the answer is, because I can. 

There are two routes leading into Burgos; one along the river and a more direct route along the road. Last year, I missed the arrows marking the more desirable river route and ended up walking into the city along busy, congested roads. This year, before the decision had to be made and as I walked solo in what seemed the middle of nowhere, I heard the sound of a bicycle approaching from behind. I was a bit startled, especially when the man caught up to me and got off his bike. He said something in Spanish, took one of my sticks and proceeded to draw a map in the dirt which showed me where I needed to go if I were to follow the river. His rudimentary map helped me take the right path when a choice had to be made. Thanks to him, I didn't make the same mistake as last year and found my way, hugging the river and into the Cathedral square. Camino angels? Yes, I believe they exist. The better choice this angel helped me make was through the pines where the dirt path cushioned. For him, I was grateful.

So, it was a good day despite the late start. The sky lightened; the rain never came. I met an angel and as I neared the city, I even found a grey feather. Although I walked solo, I wasn't alone. I smiled. 

Arrived at the Cathedral at 2:30pm.
Tomorrow will be a rest day

Day 15, 2017 - Villafranca Montes de Oca - Ages

NOURISHING SELFISHNESS

Knowing what one needs,

and acting accordingly

nurtures and renews.

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 29°, 7:30am departure, 1:00pm arrival

Last night was cold. I woke early, bandaged my feet, and packed to leave. From the start, the road was familiar...the steep hills out of town, the pine forest, and the change in the color of the earth.

As the sun rose, I stopped at the top of the first hill to take a photo. Although beautiful, the sunrise was much different than the fire in the sky I saw in this place the year before. I concluded the day would be full of comparisons like this.

I walked down a wide basin that looked like a dried river bed sandwiched between pine trees. Like last year, I imagined bandits coming out from behind the trees. My imagination was in full force.

I walked with Moises from San Paulo, Brazil and had a good "walk and talk". He said something interesting when I told him I'd stayed in a private room the night before in the albergue. He said not sleeping in bunk beds with 20-50 people might be good every now and then, but he wasn't yet ready to go the "selfish way". He still wanted to experience the "real Camino". I was reminded that the Camino is unique to everyone who walks it. There's a phrase for that, right? ...with a certain expletive? As for me, an occational stay in a private room, away from the sound of snoring was a good idea! I call it nourishing selfishness.

After all the rain and snow yesterday and the night before, I thought the path would be muddy. Instead, It was packed rock, mounded up in the middle. It drained nicely, with little mud and few puddles. I noticed the earth had changed to a red color, common for well-drained soil.

Moises and I soon parted (bidding each other, buen Camino) and I found myself alone in the forest with "the bandits". Alone, my senses were heightened. Birds were singing and I could smell the pine as I walked. It was a sensory delight but I was ready for my second café con leche! My mantra began with each plant of my stick..."café con leche, café con leche, café con leche"...

With this rhythmic pace, I walked on but suddenly felt a tension in my body. I shuddered for no apparent reason. I reached a place where roadwork had unearthed the bodies of 300 rebels who had fought in the Civil War of 1936 and where a memorial now stood. At that time, Franco had the support of Italy and Germany and a conflict in this exact spot arose. This eery clairsentience I experienced would occur more than once between here and Santiago.

I arrived at the next town, found a café, ordered coffee, recharged my phone and then decided to walk 3.5 more kilometers to the next town. The wind had picked up but thankfully it was at my back. It was a cold, blustery winter-like day in April. I reached for my water bottle, found the water delightfully cold and was grateful.

Cows grazed close to the path. The one with the bell was sleeping. I would be, too if I wore the bell....anything to stop the rhythmic ringing. I often wondered how a cow became the chosen one and for how long. Maybe she was the alpha or maybe the punished. Maybe there was a benefit to wearing the bell. Perhaps like the Camino, it was in the suffering that she was unburdened.

  

Day 14, 2017 Redecilla del Camino to Villafranca Montes de Oca

ROSY CHEEKED

After a long walk,

sitting by the fire is nice...

as rain turns to snow.

I started out this morning at 7:30am after a breakfast of freshly squeezed orange juice, toast and coffee. It was 36°; cloudy with rain. My departure was delayed, however, by another walk of shame. I'd left my poles propped up against the wall behind where I sat to eat and had to go back to retrieve them. Luckily, I found them where I'd left them and with them now in hand, I headed out...again.

Within 30 minutes,  I noticed a snail on the path, moving with turtle speed. I was reminded to slow down. 

I walked with two women from Norway, whose pace was quicker than mine, and finally wished them, "Buen Camino". Distance between us quickly increased but soon I caught up to them sipping café con leche at the second café in the next town. Like the story of the tortoise and the hare, this was the ebb and flow of the Camino.

The path today paralleled the highway so there was a constant hum and swish as cars and semis sped by. The panorama around me was beautiful though, and I took it all in. I walked for a bit with Yoon from Korea who said he walked the Camino because it gave him peace. On the Camino, there's a calm one feels despite the physical challenge. Immersed in the beauty of the Spanish countryside and the camaraderie of people all with a common goal, this calm is unique; not experienced in my day to day life at home. 

Finally, the rain stopped. I'd walked most of the day in the center of the path where grass still grew or on the grass edging the path. My gaze was generally ten feet ahead as I dodged mud and puddles. On a rainy day, walking the high road on middle ground or on the edge is most advantageous...maybe true, any day. 

At the halfway point of the day, I stopped to have my second café con leche...really just to warm up and rest. Then it was back to chase yellow arrows. The rain began, falling lightly; then like cats and dogs, but I was geared up so the "home" on my back stayed dry. It wasn't too long before up ahead, I spied my destination and quickened my pace. 

At only 2:30pm, I checked into a familiar albergue and relaxed at the bar as the rain turned into snow. It was good to be finished for the day.  Ah...the Camino, I thought, as I sipped my sangria, warmed by the fire.

  

Day 13, 2017 Azofra to Redecilla del Camino

OUT AT THE CRACK OF DAWN

Rain in the forecast,

I hope the guessers are wrong.

Still, geared up, I walk.

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This morning, the hum is about the pending rain, so I decided to forfeit breakfast and start the day in the dark. I knew the way out of town without relying on arrows and since I packed the night before, I quickly made my way out of the Albergue and into the day, or was it night?  I walked with three others from South Africa who thankfully were outfitted with headlamps. The birds serenaded as lightning flashed in the distance and quickly the lights of Azofra shone behind me. 

After only 12 days of walking under my belt, I heard my inner voice say that I was tired, and I yearned for the comforts of home. It was much too early to be thinking this...I pushed the thoughts from my mind, determined to make the most of the day. 

This walk was familiar and comforting. Basically flat, it meandered past fields and vineyards. And once the rain began, the contrasts of earth, field and sky made the walk picturesque. 

I walked a bit further today than I probably should have based upon the ache in my feet. Half way, I stopped to rest, take off my boots and socks and let my hurting feet breathe for a while. Then, rebandaging and changing socks helped to make the 27+ kilometers doable. There's a saying on the Camino..."Mind your feet"...In fact, it's number one of five "rules" (the others may or may not be mentioned later, but you pilgrims out there, know what they are). 

I arrived in Redecilla del Camino not a moment too soon and stopped at an Albergue at the beginning of the town. It's donativo which means you pay what you can. The owner has walked and biked many times to Santiago so he understands the wants/needs of a pilgrim. He made available certain luxuries. I was able to use a hair dryer to dry my hair and wash AND dry my clothes in a washer and dryer. From the kitchen, the aroma of whatever he was preparing for our dinner was mouthwatering.  I'm one of only three here and have a room to myself...with a small heater. Fine reward for a day's long journey and one duly returned, as I left the owner the small daypack I wasn't using. He graciously accepted it, saying he would carry it when he biked next time to Santiago.

Before I drifted off to sleep, warm and cozy, with dry hair and clean clothes, I thought about the give and take on the Camino. Smiling, I realized the Camino provided the comforts of home for which I earlier yearned...rain or no rain. 

Day 12, 2017 - Ventosa to Azofra

ROCKS AND ROOTS

Nobody in sight,

I maneuver on loose turf,

head down and toes up.

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I left the albergue, San Saturnino at daybreak. The sun's rise distracted and light beamed through the trees. This led me on.  I looked forward.

Up ahead I saw "my" snowcapped mountain and like it, I remained stoic. My ankle was bruised and painful, but I kept my pace, believing the pain would lessen if I just kept on going. Except for birds, the only sounds I heard were my own footsteps and the sound of tires on the pavement as I walk parallel to the highway.

I approached a boy and his dog who I'd seen in Estella, about 80 kilometers back. In conversation, I learned he is Swiss, traveling for a year, having begun his Camino in Switzerland. His dog's name was BOBOLA. Unlike me, he usually spent his nights outside off the ground in a hammock. But he's healthy, the dog's healthy and like me, he puts one foot in front of the other. I wished him ULTREYA...Spanish for ONWARD. I never saw him again.

 And then there was Paul from Huntsville, Canada who lives a bit south of Timmons. Although I liked my solitude, It was good to walk with someone. With Paul the conversation was good and before I knew it I was in Najera; boots off, resting my feet and eating fettuccini con funghi y queso...you know for the carb loading. After Najera, like with BOBOLO, I never saw Paul again.

After only two weeks of walking, the ebb and flow of the Camino was in full force. There was no jockeying for position but rather simply an uttered "buen camino" to mean either hello or goodbye with delight in the silver and gold of new found friendship. 

I have to mention the concept of a "walk of shame". This is when one absentmindedly leaves one's sticks back at the last place of rest. For me, I usually realized my blunder after only a few yards of departure. Still, the embarrassment was real, having to so quickly say goodbye again with those whom, seconds earlier, you had bid a buen camino. I suppose any embarrassment was better than the alternative of forfeiting the support sticks offer. I'm convinced they helped reduce the pain I felt earlier in my ankle.  

I arrived in the town of Azofra, and remembered it to be a favorite stopping place last year. By 1:00pm, I had checked in, washed my clothes, bathed, and begun a nap.  Later, I met friends for dinner. We sat outside at a long table, most of us choosing a "pilgrim's meal" which consisted of vegetable soup, hake, french fries and flan..oh, and wine, lots of wine. The diversity among people is one of my favorite aspects of the Camino. Tonight I "dined" with Australians, South Africans, a German, a Dane and two Canadians. 

Satisfied and full I was in bed by 9pm for an early start tomorrow. Life was good. I said goodnight to a day that started with a goodbye...again, head down and toes up.

Day 11, 2017 - Logrono to Ventosa

NUMBER THIRTY-THREE

San Saturnino,

a safe and familiar place

for this tired pilgrim.

 

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Memories of this day a year ago come flooding back. There's the mountain peak in the distance, the café in Navarette, the town of Ventosa and the albergue San Saturnino, Calle Major, 33 which today was my destination. Here, I was reunited with Jutta and Enrique, the manager and owner of the albergue, who I met last year after my first solo day of walking. This place was a safe spot, welcoming and peaceful. Familiar faces were comforting and conversation flowed. When the morning came, I walked away, smiling yet tearful, Goodbyes are not easy for me...I'm not looking back.  

 

Day 10, 2017 - Sansol to Logrono

LAUREL STREET

Tribe numbers increase

and the clinking of glasses

sounds without a slosh.

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I left Sansol early led by the lights of a still dark city. I remembered from last year that today's walk was especially tiring, so I fueled up early with cafe con leché, fresh orange juice and a muffin of some sort; then set pace for Logrono, approximately 22k ahead. Logrono is a hopping town and on a Saturday night, after walking solo the entire day, I hoped I would run into those with whom I'd earlier met.

Arriving nearly exhausted, I took a shower, washed my clothes and slept. Not too much later, I was awakened by the familiar voice of a friend (who I met the second day). She invited me to explore the town with her and her friends. It was wonderful to meet up someone I thought I might never see again and be introduced to others also on this journey to Santiago.

Logrono is one of the largest, most active towns I would encounter on the Camino, but it was not difficult to find Calle Laurel, the street famous for tapas. Later that evening, along with new friends, we wandered from bar to bar, sampling tapas (which were an art form) and tasting Wine that couldn't possibly disappoint. 

The clinking of glasses, when added to the practice of toasting, is said to satisfy all five senses...much like walking the Camino. Being on foreign land affords an opportunity to use all the senses and depend on them to help guide. Tonight, my Camino "tribe" grew as we expressed good wishes, and for a time were brought together, knowing the morning would again bring goodbyes. Exhausted or not, I would not have missed tonight's celebration. The increasing tribe would grow to depend on one another. The ebb and flow had begun.

Day 9, 2017 - Villamayor de Montjardín to Sansol

ROUNDING CORNERS

Early morning start,

walking with friends and strangers,

shadows behind us.

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We all have a reason for walking the Camino and some of us want or need to articulate it more than others.

Early this morning, for the first time this year on the Camino, I heard the call of a Cookoo bird. I recalled last year wondering if people at home thought me cookoo for walking 500 miles across a foreign country. I smiled at the thought of those same people thinking me now insane for walking it twice. It is difficult to convey what the Camino means to those who have not walked it. This is an ongoing challenge, which most likely will be amplified upon my return home after walking it a second time. Along the way, walking with those who are experiencing what I already have helps to alleviate this challenge and welcomes conversation and perspective. 

Today was the earliest and coldest start of any day I’d walked. I started out solo but around the first corner ran into Mike from the Netherlands, with whom four days earlier, I'd spent time enjoying tapas in Pamplona. We walked together comparing minor pains and lamenting the distance to the day's first café. An unusual pain on my right anklebone was causing me concern, so I was wearing my sandals to relieve the pressure my boots put on that spot. I was glad to have run into a friend whose pace was a bit slower. Walking with others helps to distract and redirect focus from myself.

Later in the day, I would again meet up with Helle from Denmark, a couple from England, the familiar face of the owner of the hotel in Sansol where I stayed last year. All were welcome companions on the day's long walk.

Olive groves and vineyards became more plentiful and feathers sparse. I was in the Rioja region now, looking forward to a nice glass of red. 

So far, I've only found one feather along the way. Feathers are a token for me; a reminder there is someone looking out for me, urging me on; keeping me safe. Finding only one reminds me of my responsibility in this. I ultimately am accountable for my well-being. I can't rely on tokens of any kind to substitute for the role I play in a successful journey.

Whatever motivates people to walk the Camino can be left behind, like shadows in the early morning.  

Day 7, 2017 - Puenta la Reina to Estella

BREATHING IT ALL IN

Walking by myself

or with those on common ground

each has time and place. 

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Walking solo has both it's advantages and disadvantages. I can get up and start the day based on my own schedule. I can move as quickly or slowly as I want, not having to hurry or wait. I can stop and rest when my body shouts for me to do so. I can deviate from the path without consultation. I can revel in the beauty of the land...I think more, notice more and feel more. I can even sing without hesitation.

On the other hand, walking with others affords me opportunity to practice compromise and compassion. I learn to assist and ask for help.  I listen. I  share what I notice. I laugh out loud. Walking with another helps me apply what I have thought about when alone. 

Today, I walked alone for many kilometers with a stone wall to my right, giving me a slight feeling of claustrophobia with which I am unfamiliar. I wondered why this feeling of being "boxed in" induced such a strong reaction to get away from and move more quickly. I wondered about times when I previously have felt this way. Was the wall a metaphor, offering some lesson I should further contemplate or was it just a wall?  I tend to consider questions more often when I am alone. With others, I can be distracted. 

I was anxious to be away from the claustrophobia induced by the wall, so I quickened my pace. Despite the wall, I was out in the open (for the most part) and there was beauty all around me. The click of my sticks increased in number and volume but I still could hear that tiny voice in my head reminding me to, "slow down". I decided to listen, slow, and look more closely at what surrounded me. I noticed flowers and vegetation, even bugs. I remember thinking how beautiful the day was, so beautiful that occasionally, my eyes would water. I continued on...and on. 

My eyes searched for the town in the distance, for hours seeing only mirage. Finally, on the horizon, my destination came into view. My pace again quickened, this time to the beat of the song, "I would walk 500 miles". I sang with abandon. A solitary day's walk would soon end. I had conquered the urge to get away quickly and looked forward to finding my "tribe", those with whom I could share a meal, good conversation and perhaps unique perspective to my questions of the day. I considered that maybe it isn't always in seclusion or in need to quickly find solution that questions are answered.

Solitude, as well as the company of others, each have time and place. This day, in my need to both hurry and slow, I was blessed to experience a little of both.

Day 6, 2017 Pamplona to Puenta la Reina

ILLUMINATION

A tunnel provides

sure passage from here to there,

revealing the way.

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The walk out of Pamplona was beautiful. The sky was clear, the temperature cool and crisp, the path dry, with no rain in sight. I anticipated today's walk, the steep climb to Alto del Perdon, with the iconic, metal statues where, "the path of the wind crosses the path of the stars". I remembered this wind and the massive turbines that increased in size the closer I got to the summit. My mind began to wander and before I knew it, I realized I hadn't seen an arrow marking the way for some time. Not yet believing I was lost, I walked on, coming to a tunnel bathed in layers of light. Mesmerized, I slowly walked through it and upon exit, my eyes focused on a way-marker assuring me I was on the right path. From here on, I would better focus...the difficult part of the day was fast approaching. 

After a mid-morning stop for my café con leche about halfway up, I met Helle from Denmark and walked with her on and off until reaching the summit. One beauty of the Camino is that pilgrims ebb and flow; sometimes walking for days together; sometimes only for minutes. We all have our own pace but when pace matches, partnerships are formed and friendships, although varied, can last a day or sometimes, a lifetime.

Once at the summit, Helle stopped to take in the amazing view and write in her journal. I went on, focusing on each step, trying to convince myself that if I could make it through this day without pain, I would not have to endure the tendonitis I did the year before, since this is where my leg began to hurt.  

The downhill path consisted of rocks of varying size, sliding underfoot. It was difficult, and also necessary to will myself to slow. It was easy to get going too fast because of the downhill grade. I focused on every step. It wasn't until with only 2k left to go that blisters opened up and made each step agony. But, what's 2k, right? I had survived one of the most difficult climbs and descents of the entire Camino. 

Once in Puenta la Reina, where I would stop for the night, I found a Farmacia and managed to spend a whole day's budget restocking tape, bandages and cream recommended by the pharacist to "without a doubt" heal my blisters in 2-3 days. At this point,  I'd try most anything...but, "without a doubt" left me a bit suspicious, sort of like the words, always and never.   

The day concluded with dinner and conversation with a couple of Australian friends. After helado, we parted ways, hopeful since we were moving in the same direction, the ebb and flow would again find us walking together, another day.   

 

 

 

Day 5, 2017 - Pamplona Rest Day

WHITE AWNING IN THE PLAZA CASTILLO

Café Iruña,

where I nursed a drink or three,

thinking of Ernest.

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Even though I'd only walked four days, in effort to relax my tired and blistered feet and to explore Pamplona, I took a "rest day". I'd stopped here last year but not for an extra day. I'd been able to sample extraordinary tapas and Rioja, but did not make time to walk the way the bulls run nor sit in the plaza and simply watch. This year, I wanted to spend more time exploring the town where Hemingway once mingled with the locals and made famous the Café Iruña. Pamplona is a grand city, full of movement and life. Here, I met with friends in my quickly growing "tribe" and enjoyed drinks as the square began to fill. Here, out and around this square, I was looking at the same sights Hemingway once did. I was most likely, no, undoubtedly, more sober than he and being in one of his favorite, old haunts conjured up the movable feast ahead. 

Day 4, 2017 Zubiri to Pamplona

CHANGE IS GOOD

To nurse my blisters

I switched from boots to sandals.

Caution was required.

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Prior to the Camino, I thought I'd walked enough in my boots to break them in but I was wrong. I'd developed three blisters, most likely because of the ups and downs of the previous days. After cleansing, applying cream and bandaging my heels, I decided to switch from wearing my boots to my sandals to provide some relief. I hoped that by allowing my feet to "breathe", I could avoid the blisters opening up and producing more pain or worse become infected and prohibiting me from walking. Except for the extra weight in my pack, the change felt good; I felt lighter and the pain subsided.  

The path varied from dirt, gravel, rock, and pavement. I crossed bridges, walked through fields with flocks of sheep, rested under sheltered areas lined with brick and meandered on narrow, tree-lined trails. There were undulating hills and one exceptionally steep downhill of steps without any bannister on which to hold. Luckily, the sun was out and no rain had caused water to pool and reduce traction. However, the lack of ankle support by wearing sandals required focus and balance on the descent. Coupled with blisters, I knew that an ankle sprain or even a twist might be a Camino-ending injury. I was careful and successful, finally glad to be safe at the bottom. The change of footwear proved to be a good choice, but I have to say "my dogs were barking" as I approached the Magdalena bridge and entered the gates of the remarkable city of Pamplona.