Blog - Nadine Walks

A Spring Camino!

March 31, 2022

I was thinking, today, that my blog has its seasons.

There’s a “cold season” and a “warm season”, and right now we’re emerging from the cold months into a warmer time and- like the grass and the petals and the buds all coming slowly back to life- so, too, will this blog.

Not a lot seems to happen around here in the winter months, nothing worth writing about on a walking blog, anyway. Or maybe it’s more that I’ve been trying to focus on other projects, and after years of writing posts about the Camino and walking, I don’t feel like I have a ton of new stuff to say, outside of the more travelogue style posts when I’m actually out on a long walk.

In any case, this blog has gone through quiet periods, but I’m back today because the air is warm and April is around the corner and so is a little break from work, and all of this means that I’ll be heading back out for another long walk!

Well, longish. I only have a week to walk but I decided to go big and fly over to Europe and walk some part of a Camino route. Months ago I researched route after route, trying to figure out where I might want to walk: what would be do-able in a week, a place that wouldn’t be too cold, a place that would have enough open and not be too expensive, a place I hadn’t walked before, etc, etc.

It seemed to hit me all at once: I could walk in Portugal!

I don’t think I’d initially considered Portugal for a short spring-break walk because I’d always planned on something much longer. I was set to fly to Portugal in June 2020, and walk from Lisbon up to Santiago. I had my flight and my guidebook and I was excited to explore a new country and a new Camino path, but, of course, COVID derailed those plans.

So I think I’ve always kept Portugal in my mind as a longer Camino that I’d just have to replan someday. But then I realized that I could walk the Coastal Portuguese from Porto and suddenly it all made so much sense! From Porto, there are two routes to Santiago: the coastal and the central. I’ve heard great things about both, and when I was originally planning my 2020 walk, I wasn’t sure what I’d decide to do when I reached Porto. But, with just a week to walk, it’s actually the perfect amount of time to do the entire coastal section of the Portuguese. I’ll start in Porto and I won’t reach Santiago, but it’s okay for this time around. When I have more time at my disposal, I can start down in Lisbon and try to walk all the way to Santiago. This time, with just a week, I’ll spend those days walking along the coast.

And so, it was decided! A spring Camino, my first one ever! Five years ago I did Hadrian’s Wall over my spring break, and while I suppose it’s a big trip for a short amount of time, I remember thinking as I walked that first day out of Newcastle that I’d made the best decision ever. That making the effort to get myself to a beautiful place where I could follow some way-markers and simplify my days into the soothing routine of walk-eat-sleep-repeat was worth it, every time.

So that’s what I’ll do again, I’ll fly to Porto and my plan is to start walking immediately (will I regret this? Probably. But I always want to just start as quickly as possible), and I’ll find my first yellow arrow and then just keep following them and walk for as far as I can. I’ve planned some big stages- of course I have!- but the route is fairly flat and I’ve been walking all winter and at this stage, I think I’ll be able to handle the big stages. I’ve reserved most of my beds, too, because I’m just not sure how crowded things will be around the Easter holidays, or just how many albergues will be re-opened after/during this COVID time, or just how many pilgrims will be on the path.

The plans are made, as well as I can make them, and I’m still not totally convinced that this trip will go off without a hitch (I need a negative COVID test to enter Portugal, and I’ve been working in a school where masks are now optional and hardly anyone wears one anymore, and germs are flying around, and, well, COVID has made travel feel a lot different, a lot more uncertain). But I hope that all will go well and smoothly, and that- soon- I can be walking again.

And even though this is a short trip, I’m starting to get all of my pre-Camino jitters, the same as ever, even though at this point I should know better. But yet, I worry anyway. My new shoes don’t feel quite broken in, they don’t feel as comfortable as my last pair- are they rubbing against my toes? Will they cause blisters? Will there be rain in the forecast, should I pack my rain pants? (I ask myself this every single time.) I’m walking in the spring, do I need to bring an extra layer? I just bought myself a fanny pack/waist pack but I haven’t yet hiked wearing it AND my pack and will I like it or be annoyed by wearing something extra around my waist? Do I bring my nice camera?

On and on the questions go but there’s a joy in asking myself these pre-journey questions, the same ones every time, it means that I’m heading off across an ocean and following a path, I’m heading off on a journey. This is something I love, something that makes me feel so solid and good, something that makes me feel alive. Alive! It’s spring and I can feel myself emerging from my winter cocoon, ready to take my first steps down a new path.

Stay tuned.

Yellow arrow and cobblestone in Porto, Camino Portuguese

(Photo from 2019, when I spent a few days in Porto following my Camino del Norte)

Day 11 on the Camino Primitivo, Lavacolla to Santiago, 10km

October 31, 2021

Day 11 on the Camino Primitivo YouTube Video

I started the morning early, with a vending machine café con leche from the albergue kitchen (Camino rule: never pass up an opportunity for coffee first thing in the morning!). I headed out in the dark, leaving before sunrise, though the sky began to lighten soon after I started walking. This last stage was quick- just 10km- and easy, too. Other pilgrims were on the way but not too many, and despite the short distance, I could feel myself wanting to move faster and faster, wanting to speed up my arrival to the city and to the cathedral. Arriving in Santiago is always exciting!

And then there I was, navigating through the city, walking under the arch and into the plaza and standing beneath the great cathedral. Santiago de Compostela, I’d arrived once more! My next order of business was to find another cup of coffee and why does it seem to be so difficult to find an open bar in Santiago in the morning hours? I went to a place not far from the cathedral after wandering around for 20 minutes, one of the only open places I could find. I ordered- you guessed it!- a café con leche and some breakfast and while I was standing at the bar, waiting to order, a pilgrim who’d just walked from Tui on the Camino Portugués struck up a conversation with me. He joined me at my table, and before long a friend of his arrived as well. We only sat together for about 20 minutes but even in that short amount of time, I felt as though I had several more pilgrim friends. We exchanged contact info, Anne said- “If you’re ever in Porto, please let me know!”

I walked back to the square and settled down, my back against a stone column, my face turned up towards the sun, my feet pointing to the cathedral, and a pilgrim from Lithuania walked by. I caught his eye and we smiled and he raised his fist in the air, in victory. He took a seat near me and we both sat there in the sun, letting Santiago sink in.

Later I saw a Spanish pilgrim. “Team Primitivo!” he exclaimed, after saying how happy he was to see me in the city. There were others I didn’t see, but even these few encounters warmed my heart, reminded me that even as I go my own way and often stay alone, I’m truly never alone out here. And then, onto my hotel, a little place in this city that I know, the place where I always stay (if I can get a bed!), and I love that I have a place here, a tiny room with a single bed and wooden desk and shared bathrooms on the half-floors with maybe some of the best views in the city.

And then lunch down the street, this central but quiet street in Santiago, and I arrive just as a table is clearing and the owner is so kind- really, everyone has been so kind here- and I sit back with a glass of Ribeiro and watch as the pigeons peck at crumbs on the ground, and listen to the voices in the streets and feel so grateful, so content, so happy to be back here.

Day 10 on the Camino Primitivo, Boente to Lavacolla, 38km

October 10, 2021

Day 10 on the Camino Primitivo YouTube Video

Sometimes birthdays on the road are wonderful and magical, and sometimes they’re a little tough. My day 10 on the Camino Primitivo was an all-around not super great Camino day, and I suppose if it hadn’t been my birthday I wouldn’t have thought much of it, just chalking it up to the so-so days you have sometimes. But a birthday adds a certain kind of pressure, and today just didn’t give me the ingredients for a magical day.

For starters, I’m now on the Francés, and it is the weekend, and it is August. And let me tell you, it was the pilgrim superhighway! I know to expect a lot of pilgrims in the final stretch leading up to Santiago, and in some ways I think it’s kind of magical: here are hundreds and hundreds of people, all of us with our packs and our sticks and we’re marching along in a line, moving in the same direction, all of us from all over the world, heading to Santiago. It’s pretty cool. But for someone who likes to walk alone and loves having an open path all to myself, this influx of pilgrims was a lot! I’d never seen anything like it, and while it’s been awhile since I’ve walked this path into Santiago, I can’t quite believe how many more pilgrims there were on the way. From the quiet Primitivo to this: groups of friends, and students, and families, and just… people- it was overwhelming.

But I had a nice and quiet morning, I suppose the day started almost perfectly. Up and walking in the dark blue before dawn, one kilometer and then two and then an open bar. I was the only one there, with a huge cup of coffee and and a croissant, and just as I was finishing, Claudia and Jean Paul walked up, two pilgrims I’d met several days before. And, a few minutes later, the two Spanish pilgrims from my albergue last night. We all smiled and waved and chatted, and then I continued on, and for awhile the path was still quiet.

Then, the circus of the late morning and early afternoon, but I made the best of it: stopping again for a tortilla and a cortado, and then, again, for a beer and a small bowl of chips. There was a point when the path of the Camino veered off to the right, but the mass of pilgrims all continued straight: they were walking into O Pedrouzo, I was continuing on for another 10 kilometers to Lavacolla. And just like that, most of the pilgrims were gone, and I was walking under the trees with the path to myself.

And then it rained, light at first, and then harder, and it wasn’t ideal but when it rains on the Camino there’s nothing to really do except keep on walking. And so I did.

I arrived, wet and a little cold, to the albergue in Lavacolla. It was a fine enough place: a big bunk room but with decent space between the bunks, and a beautiful and well-equipped kitchen. Right as I entered I saw a pilgrim I’d met in Ferreira, and she was fine but not quite my cup of tea. She told me how the only shops in town were closed because it was Sunday, but then raved about the great lunch she’d just eaten at the restaurant down the road, and even how the owners had given her a ride back because it was raining. I could feel my stomach start to rumble: it was nearly 4pm, I’d walked nearly 40 kilometers, and while I’d stopped several times throughout the day, I’d never had a proper lunch. It would be too late for lunch now, but I figured I would shower and then maybe set off to explore and see if I could find a place that might be serving food.

I headed back out around 6, after a quick search on my phone revealed that the restaurant down the road would serve food at all hours. A pilgrim miracle! It wasn’t raining when I set out but it was gray and chilly. I walked and walked and when I arrived at the restaurant, I was greeted with a frown, a hostess pointing to a large sign. I needed to prove I was vaccinated in order to enter the restaurant, and of course, I’d left my vaccination card back at the albergue! (This was one of the two times I needed to prove vaccination to enter an establishment; I was walking through Galicia at a time this summer when it was required, but those regulations changed shortly after.) The hostess shrugged, pointed to a table under a canvas tent, and told me that the kitchen couldn’t serve me food until 8pm.

So I sat at a table outside and zipped my fleece up, tucking my hands into the sleeves to warm my fingers, and ordered a glass of wine. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do- two hours would be a long time to wait outside- but I figured I’d have a glass of wine, then walk back to the albergue, pick up my vaccination card, and then walk back to the restaurant for dinner. But just as my wine was delivered to my table, the skies opened up and it began to pour.

I sat, huddled and alone at a table outside because I was the pilgrim who didn’t have proof of vaccination, and wondered what I was going to do. It was then that I started to feel a little sorry for myself, to feel sorry that it was my birthday, and that I was close to Santiago but all alone, tired and hungry, staring out at the rain.

And then the hostess brought me a menu, and told me I could order food. Someone inside that restaurant must have looked out and taken pity on me, or maybe it’s just that the Camino provides, because I was able to order food and I was able to eat, and it was what I needed.

I still had to walk back to my albergue in the rain, but it didn’t matter: once I got back I changed into the only clean and dry clothes I had left, I managed to find the hospitalera so I could ask for a blanket, I chatted with a few French pilgrims, and crawled into bed, warm and dry, with a full stomach.

Some Camino days are “off” Camino days, but at the end of it I tried to remember how grateful I was to be able to be walking at all. Plus, I was just 10km away from Santiago! Bright days ahead.

Next Post: Day 11 on the Camino Primitivo

Day 9 on the Camino Primitivo, Ferreira to Boente, 25km

October 3, 2021

Day 9 on the Camino Primitivo YouTube Video

25km today, and now, of course, my body feels strong and maybe those Camino legs have really kicked in because the kilometers were easy and so of course I felt like I could have walked longer. I did my thing of walking fast and stopping a lot: for coffee, for an Aquarius, for photos, for peering into churches.

There was a stretch with a long, stony path, bordered by green pine trees and tufts of purple heather and what remained of a gray stone wall and this path seemed to go on and on, under a big sky, with Melide in the distance, clouds and sun and no one there but me. I loved it! I’d walked it before- I must have, back in 2015- but I couldn’t remember it at all. As I walked, I thought about how beautiful it was, how I felt as though I would never forget it, and wondered what I’d been thinking about when I walked it 6 years before. Why hadn’t it stuck in my memory? What had been my mood that day? Were my eyes focused on the ground, was the sky dark and stormy, was I walking with someone else? I might not have remembered this part of the Camino the first time I walked but this time, it made an impression. In Melide the Primitivo would merge with the Frances, and so these were the very last kilometers on the Primitive Way. I tried to soak them up, I tried to imprint the path onto my memories. Maybe I did.

And then I arrived in Melide and I was surrounded by new and unknown pilgrims. This happens every time! I should be used to it!! But we’re all pilgrims and I told myself I only have a few days left until I reach Santiago, I can deal with a few more pilgrims on the path. But it makes me think of just how special the Primitivo is- every year and especially this year. What a special, special walk.

I passed through Melide, pausing for a glass of wine with a pilgrim I’d met that morning, then I continued on. I intended to get something to eat but I was flustered by the city so I just started walking, and then another 5km flashed by and I was at my albergue (Albergue El Alemán, Boente). I’d made a reservation just two days before; I’d been nervous about all the pilgrims on the last 100km of the Frances and reports that finding beds in this stretch was really difficult (especially considering I was now walking in the height of the summer), but luckily I had no trouble finding places to sleep. I think it helped that I was staying “off stage” (off of the typical Brierley guidebook stages, anyway), but in any case, I was pleased to not have to stress about where I would sleep.

And this albergue was great! It had been recommended to me by my lovely host back in Vilar de Cas, and everything was just as promised: a beer garden with outdoor picnic tables under a large awning, a tiny restaurant/bar area with some basic pilgrim supplies, even a small pool to dip tired feet into! As I arrived, two pilgrims I’d met the night before were finishing lunch, and they invited me to their table and I ordered my own meal: a big salad, fish and roasted potatoes, cold melon for dessert. Those friends both continued on, and in the end there were only 5 pilgrims- including myself- in the albergue, and incredibly, four of us had been on the Primitivo! Even though I was technically now on the Francés, it felt as though I’d extended the Camino Primitivo by a few more kilometers.

Somehow I managed to eat more food for dinner just a short while later, after giving my feet a long soak in the pool. After eating every last bite of my big bowl of pasta (not only have my Camino legs kicked in, it appears that the Camino hunger has kicked in as well!), I finished the day with a stroll through the quiet streets of the village.

But the real ending was a small commotion I made in the bunk room of the albergue as I was preparing to go to bed. While trying to close the blinds of the window across from my bunk, I accidentally pulled the entire thing down and it fell with a crash. A Spanish pilgrim came over to see what the noise was and together we managed to get the blinds back in place, but there were little plastic pieces, broken, on the floor. I gathered them up in my hand and the pilgrim said- “Destroy the evidence!” and the hospitaleros had already turned in for the night and I couldn’t tell them about the window. So if you stay at the Albergue in Boente and the window shade falls down in the night, it is not a ghost!! It was just me.

Next Post: Day 10 on the Camino Primitivo

Day 8 on the Camino Primitivo, Lugo to Ferreira, 26.5km (+3km detour)

September 29, 2021

Day 8 on the Camino Primitivo YouTube Video

My day started in what is- for me- the best possible way: a large and creamy mug of coffee and some sort of bready and slightly sweet pastry in an charming old café in the main square of a Spanish city. The sun hadn’t yet risen but the sky was beginning to lighten, the streets were quiet, the espresso machine whirled and there was one other woman in the café, tucked away in the corner. My pack propped against the wall, my shoes laced tight, the hot coffee and a day of walking ahead.

The highlight of today’s walk was detouring to see the Roman Temple in Santa Eulalia de Bóveda, just a couple kilometers off the path of the Camino. I’d only given a cursory glance at what I was going to see, and on the way there I sort of thought I was going to see an old church (I’m going to blame it on the Camino and being in a new place everyday and never quite remembering where you’ve been or where you’re going). I arrived, figured out how to find the tourist office (this makes the place seem like some bustling city… it’s not. It’s a super tiny, deserted village with some houses and a church, and this little room that acts as the tourist information center). Luckily I arrived during their open hours, and I knocked on the door and a woman appeared and said something and of course I was confused and I went to try to find the temple (you’d think it would be obvious- but really, this was a very small, nondescript Spanish village, much like so many others I had seen before. The fact that an ancient temple was tucked away somewhere here was pretty amazing!) and finally I realized it was behind a locked door and I had to wait for the woman with the key.

She opened a door, led me down some steps, and I walked into a dark space and was blown away. This 3rd century Roman temple was only discovered in the 1940’s, and it’s so tucked away (underneath the church!) it’s incredible that it’s there at all, and that I somehow managed to find my way there. And I felt lucky to get to see it- I needed to have known about it, I needed to walk a few kilometers off the Camino, the tourism office needed to be open and staffed, all of it seemed to need to come together to get to be in this pretty special spot.

The rest of the walk felt good, the time passed quickly. It was an overcast day, and cool. There were no services for most of the walk, not until a bar about 7km before the end of the stage, and while I was taking a break there I saw several pilgrims I knew- Kinka was eating a sandwich, Andre walked by with his friends. An American and an Italian came up after I’d arrived and we started talking and just like that, it felt as though I had new friends! The Primitivo has felt really special, and I’m not sure if it’s just a particularly nice batch of pilgrims, or if it’s the unique nature of walking this year. Maybe both. I’ve said this before but the connections happen fast- you can chat with a pilgrim for 15 minutes at a rest stop, see them again in your albergue, and be laughing like you’re old friends.

And that’s exactly what happened: Simone, the Italian, was staying in the same albergue as I was, and we checked in at the same time, got settled into our bunks, took turns taking a shower, and then whiled away the rest of the afternoon in the lounge of the albergue. It had grown cold outside, and stormy, and I was wearing every layer I’d brought with me, but it was warm in the albergue and once again, I’d found another great place: the Albergue Ponte Ferreira, owned by a wonderful Dutch couple, who greeted pilgrims with small mugs of mint tea and an incredible homemade dinner. We all filed into the large dining room when it was dinner time- there were 6 of us- and were treated to a crisp salad with avocado, big slices of cheesy quiche, pasta with a hearty meat sauce, bowls of vanilla ice cream with slivers of banana and a dollop of whipped cream. And wine and bread (of course!). Simone and I laughed and joked and it was like we were old friends, though we had just met earlier in the day, and once again I was with a new group but we were all, mostly, new to each other and it seemed like I was able to fit in easily.

I fell asleep quickly, in my bunk in the corner of the room, under a freshly washed blanket (not all albergues were providing blankets during COVID, but this one was- you just had to request it!). A satisfying walk, a nourishing meal, the easy connection of fellow pilgrims, the knowledge that my Primitivo was nearing its finish, wrapped up and warm in my bed, safe and sound.

Next Post: Day 9 on the Camino Primitivo

Day 7 on the Camino Primitivo, Vilar de Cas to Lugo, 15km

September 21, 2021

Day 7 on the Camino Primitivo YouTube Video

By Day 7 on the Primitivo, I knew I needed a break. Those first 6 days that I’d walked were not easy stages, and each day had seemed to hold some significant ups and downs. I love walking big days, but I could feel how tired my body was. So instead of another big stage, I decided to walk a straightforward 15km into Lugo, where I could rest and explore the city and- try- to take it easy.

I’d had a great night’s sleep in the beautiful albergue in Vilar de Cas, and because I knew I was walking a short day, I took my time in the morning. I lingered over breakfast- toast and coffee and fresh orange juice and a big slice of cake (there’s a name for this- the slightly sweet cake that’s often served at breakfast- but I can’t remember it!) and I sat again at a table outside, and the German girls joined me and then left, and once again, I lingered. I finished breakfast, I packed up the rest of my things, I took pictures and videos of the albergue, I wandered back to the bar area to pay my bill, and Mer was there! She’d already walked 5km that morning, and as she drank down her coffee and ate her cake, she told me that she was in a hurry to get to Lugo so she could make it in time for a city tour.

She left before me, for some reason I was still lingering. Eventually I grabbed my walking stick, said goodbye to my hosts and waved to the villagers and walked out of the village. It was such a wonderful place, and I thought about it as I walked: how safe and taken care of I’d felt there. I was a pilgrim and just passing through, I couldn’t speak the language of my hosts or the villagers, and yet, I felt included. I felt like I was part of something there, that I was seen, that I had a place at the table.

The 15km passed quickly; I tried to slow my pace but I was energized and I walked strong all the way into Lugo. I’d been through here before, on my first Primitivo in 2015, but I never really saw the city back then. I’d moved through it quickly, not wanting to be in a crowded place, wanting to be somewhere quiet. This time, I was arriving at 11am and I had the entire day in front of me. I stopped for a coffee and sat in the shadows of the city walls, and then I walked up onto those Roman walls, a 2km+ path that circles the city. It was incredible, and over and over I asked myself- “how could I have missed this the first time I was here?”

I checked into my hotel room and it was perfect. I’d gotten a recommendation from my hospitalero for a place called Hotel España, a small room with a single bed and a private bathroom with a view of the city walls for only 25 euros! Pilgrim luxury. I’d been walking for a week at this point, staying in albergues, and even though I’d had some rooms all to myself, it was a treat to have a very private space and my own bathroom. I emptied my pack and reorganized my things, took a shower with the hotel’s shampoo and soap (and towel!), washed my clothes and found wire hangers in the wardrobe and hung the clothes from the window so they could dry in the breeze.

Once the chores were done I went back out into the city for lunch. I found a narrow cobblestoned street in the old city with a cluster of restaurants lining the sidewalk, with tables under umbrellas, and settled in at one of them. I ordered a menu del dia: ham croquetas, salmon with salad, quince and cheese, a basket of bread and a glass of white wine. While I ate, a small bird landed on the chair across from me, chirping as I sipped my wine. The German girls walked past, and we smiled and waved at each other.

It was 3pm and I had the rest of the afternoon and evening and a beautiful city to explore, but I decided to head back to hotel for a little siesta. I stretched out on the bed, thinking I might relax for an hour or so, but one hour turned to two, to three, and I knew that what I needed more than anything was rest.

I’d walked a lot in this first week on the Camino. Possibly too much, although in many ways, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I’d reserved most of my lodging before I left for Spain which is something I typically wouldn’t do, but with the uncertainty of a COVID year and reduced capacity in albergues, I wanted to be safe and assure myself of a place to sleep at night. And when I was planning, I told myself that the long days would be fine, and good. And they were fine, and good, and I loved the people I met and I loved the challenge of the hard days, but there on that bed in Lugo, with the breeze blowing back the curtains and spinning my t-shirt on its hanger, the thick stone of those Roman walls so close I could almost touch them, I decided to slow down. My original plan had me walking several more long days, and I’d already shortened the day’s stage by stopping in Lugo, but I decided to tack on an extra stage, and stretch out my Primitivo by one more day. I suppose that I did it all backwards: walking long days on the most difficult stages, shorter days on the easier days into Santiago. But it felt right, so I didn’t question it. I mapped out a new plan in my journal, sent a couple of emails to see about reserving beds in albergues, and felt settled about the decision.

And I gave myself a quiet night: a quick walk to the nearest grocery store, a packaged salad and a hunk of bread and a cold beer, cookies for dessert. The Olympics on TV, the open window, my laundry and soft white towels and my little nest in the shadows of an ancient city wall. Resting after a week on the Camino, ready for whatever the next week might hold.

Next Post: Day 8 on the Camino Primitivo

Day 6 on the Primitivo, A Fonsagrada to Vilar de Cas, 38km

September 16, 2021

Day 6 on the Primitivo YouTube Video

Another big day, 38 kilometers, and as ever I climbed and climbed and for some reason I thought that there was a point where the Primitivo gets easier. Maybe it’s tomorrow, when I finally have a short stage. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe.

But today felt good, even if my feet hurt a little and I can feel that my legs are tired. So I’ll walk my short and easier stage tomorrow and take a rest. But as for today, I pushed on, walking with the fog as it lifted to reveal blue skies. I stood in line with the locals in the dim blue morning to wait for the town bar to open so I could buy a fresh croissant to eat as I walked, and it was the freshest, most delicious croissant I could ever remember eating. I wonder, is there anything much better than this? To be biting into the soft and warm center of a croissant and brushing the crumbs from my lips as I walk with my stick tucked under my arm, my arms and legs cool in the morning air, light bleeding out from the horizon with the promise of a clear day?

I passed by my favorite tree- I have a favorite tree on the Primitivo! I took a photo of it 6 years ago and it’s one of my favorite photos from any Camino, and I got a huge black and white print of it to hang on my living room wall and so every single morning I sit on my couch and drink coffee and look at that tree. And now, walking down the same path, I come to the tree again, and I know it instantly, and the morning has that same atmosphere and I want to stay there for a long, long time, staring at my tree. Eventually I moved on, up to a ridge under the huge windmills, their blades slicing the air, and passed by an old pilgrim’s hostel and an ancient dolmen and I thought maybe I heard voices up there, whispering.

I found a donativo rest stop with fresh coffee and big slices of watermelon, and I sipped my coffee on a cushioned seat overlooking the mountains, and met some new pilgrims. And then, coming down the path and sailing along was Mer, the pilgrim I cooked dinner with at the haunted monastery in Cornellana back on Day 1. It had been 5 days since I’d seen her but it felt like weeks, and she paused at the donativo spot and I said her name and she stared at me as though she couldn’t quite believe her eyes. “What are you doing here!?” she cried, and I laughed, because I think we both thought we’d never see each other again.

More walking, a sandwich in a deserted square in O Cadavo, and a late afternoon beer in Castroverde to help power me through the last kilometers to Vilar de Cas.

My albergue here- Albergue A Pociña de Muñiz– is the nicest albergue I’ve ever stayed in, almost too nice for the pilgrim life. I wish I had arrived earlier so I could enjoy the garden or rest in a hammock, but instead I buy another beer and an old man in a red sweater rides up on an electric bike and says- “You’re the American! You will be my English teacher.” He must have heard of my arrival in this small, small village, a place where surely, news travels fast. So I sit and talk, and the village abuela comes by and frowns when she sees that I’m not eating anything, and then the only other pilgrim staying in this place comes over, too. Eric, from France, and he tells me he has quit his corporate job and is starting a business as a fengshui consultant, and asks me what I would do if I could do anything. After I answer (“walk, and write, and take pictures” I tell him), he asks why I’m not doing this. His questions are maybe just the right kind, the kind that make me squirm because I know they are getting to the heart of the matter, the things I grapple with, the questions I ask myself but am often afraid to answer.

And then, dinner. Eric returns to the albergue to cook in the kitchen but I’ve taken advantage of the meal that my hosts will cook, and it is the best dinner yet, all homemade with local and fresh ingredients and my hosts bring out more and more, the food never ends: a smooth vegetable soup and two pieces of empanada and then a burger and fries and eggs (a plate so big and full that I think I can’t possibly eat it all but then I proceed to finish nearly every last bite), and wine and bread and then quince jelly and cheese (my new favorite!). In the middle of this feast two new pilgrims arrive, hobbling in, exhausted, asking with a hint of desperation if they can still eat dinner. They sit at my table and are brought out dishes of food and we talk, and they are polite, but they are focused on the food, and a shower, and a bed.

And so I stay with them and then continue to sit at the table after they leave, long after, lingering and watching the sun sink to the horizon, and then bottles of difestifs and little shot glasses are placed down in front of me and my host and the villagers who have gathered at the bar are all laughing as I drink the strong shots, the liquid burning past my tongue and down my throat and spreading warmth through my body. It is good, all so good, the whole day and the whole night, every step.

Next Post: Day 7 on the Camino Primitivo

Release of ‘A Single Step’ Ebook!

September 12, 2021

Taking a quick break from Primitivo posts (more coming this week, so stay tuned!) to share a little book of essays that I’ve just released!

The collection is called ‘A Single Step; Stories of Walking and Wandering’ and it’s available as a PDF Digital Download. 73 pages of walking and travel stories (and photos, too)! Lots of good Camino stuff, but there are also reflections on the pandemic, a glimpse into my study abroad year in Toulouse when I was 20, a road trip adventure, and more.

I’d been working on these essays over the last year, and sharing one a month over on Patreon (a site where you can support my writing/travel stories). Patrons have already had access to many of these essays, and received a free digital copy of the book. But I wanted to make it available more widely as well, and I’m pleased to be able to share it with you today!

I started out just writing somewhat randomly about my travels and my long walks, but I noticed that certain themes were emerging: coming of age and growing older and growing up. Finding confidence, comfort in my own skin. Searching for a place in the world.

If you’ve been a longtime follower (or even recent follower), if you’ve enjoyed my posts and stories about my long walks, then I think you will enjoy these essays. I’ve set a suggested price of $8.00 for the book, but it was important to me to make these essays financially accessible, so there’s a ‘pay what you wish’ option, which lets you choose any price $1.00 or up. And any price is okay! The goal is for these essays to find their way to the readers who might enjoy them, and I think some of you here are part of that audience.

Writing these essays was (mostly) fun. A year ago I was heading into a school year filled with so many unknowns, so much tension and anxiety, so many challenges and I knew that it could be really easy to lose focus and to lose the discipline of a writing practice. I set a very modest goal of writing one essay a month and mostly stuck to it, and I’m happy with some of the words I put together in that time. I look through these essays and am so grateful for the traveling and adventures I’ve been able to have, and I can see how there is still so much room to continue to challenge myself, so many places to explore, more paths to walk, more growing up to do.

Here’s the link for access to the book, if this seems like something you’re interested in, I hope you’ll take a look!

Day 5 on the Camino Primitivo, La Mesa to A Fonsagrada, 40km

September 8, 2021

Day 5 on the Primitivo YouTube Video

I walked far today, from La Mesa to A Fonsagrada, just over 40km. It had all been part of my initial plan and I really like walking long days but I kind of forgot that the Primitivo is not an easy route. I was so focused on Hospitales that I told myself the rest of the way would be easier and, well, there are still ups and downs! Lots of them!

But the beginning of the day, especially from La Mesa to the reservoir about 5km before Grandas de Salime, was nothing short of magical. After breakfast in the restaurant at the albergue I started walking, with the sun rising at my back. André- the young pilgrim from Portugal- was the only other walker out on the road and for awhile I could keep my eye on him, far ahead on the hillside. He was keeping pace with a group of bicyclers who were having trouble with the steep hill and I had to laugh, wondering if André would eventually outpace them.

Then they all crested the hill and I lost sight of them and it was just me and my long shadow and I walked. The air was cool and the light was soft and the Camino moved off of the road and onto a path through the fields. I felt high above everything- maybe not quite the heights of Hospitales the day before, but still surrounded by mountains and rolling valleys. My favorite spot of the day was just before the path begins its descent down towards the reservoir- I turned a corner and arrived at a little stone chapel (Chapel of Santa Marina de Buspol). There was a field of cows, their bells ringing and clanging, a wildflower-strewn path, streaking clouds and patches of sunlight on the mountains in the distance.

The path of the Camino descends for quite awhile and then skirts around the reservoir before it climbs back up on the other side. Right at the start of the long (and paved) climb is a little hotel/bar that I remembered stopping at back in 2015. It was open and the terrace views were just as good as they were 6 years ago, and the café cortado and tortilla (my first of the trip!) even better.

But then I entered into the part of the day that felt hard. It wasn’t just the walking- though that was at times tough and I could feel that I was dragging- it was the mental aspect, too. I regretted, just a little, doubling a stage and moving away from all of my friends. I know this is what happens on a Camino when you walk a short day or a long day, and I tried to remind myself that I always run into people unexpectedly here (that a Camino goodbye isn’t always a true goodbye), but I felt wistful as I walked past the albergue in Castro where many of the others would be staying. I’d walked 20km at this point, and there wasn’t another lodging option until A Fonsagrada, another 20km away (which was where I was headed). The albergue in Castro was a nice-looking stone building overlooking a field of cows, at the corner of a very small and quiet village and it all seemed so peaceful, so relaxing. I could picture it: showering and doing my pilgrim chores and then grabbing a beer at the attached bar and settling in at a table for the rest of the afternoon, greeting my friends one by one as they walked up.

I could picture it, and yet, it wasn’t even noon. I thought about sitting around for the rest of the afternoon and I could feel myself grow restless, my feet itching to keep moving. Did I make the right choice by walking an additional 20km to A Fonsagrada and losing the friends I’d made over the first four days? Is there ever a right Camino decision? All I know is that I paused at the albergue, and then I kept walking.

I took a long break on a bench at the church in Penafuente, pulling out all of my snacks and eating as much as I could to give myself some energy. I was only 5km past Castro and still had 15km to go and for the next 10km I really had to push myself, but- as ever- one foot in front of the other. Over and over.

In Barbeitos I found an open bar and ordered a beer and peeled off my shoes and socks and then André walked up. I’d last seen him back in Castro, sitting at the bar attached to the albergue, and assumed he would be staying there for the night. He sat at my table and told me that the night before he’d had a dream, urging him to walk a long day, and so here he was!

We had such a good, long, ‘Camino-esque’ conversation; Andre has walked the Camino before, too, and we talked about what brings us back, what feelings we hope to find, how to find those feelings at home. I lost track of time, realizing with a jolt that it was nearly 6pm and I still had 5km to walk- maybe one of my latest Camino days yet! I said goodbye to André but as I walked realized that it didn’t matter so much that I would be arriving in town so late in the evening. I had a bed reserved, I didn’t need to do much more than shower and find some food, and so I settled into those last kilometers, gliding through (until that cruel, cruel uphill into town).

André had caught up with me and we walked to the albergue together, and it was another nice place: Albergue-Pensión Cantábrico, where I had my own little bunk room plus a fresh towel! Such pilgrim luxury. And then, to continue with the luxury, I went out in search of dinner and found a place where I was tempted by the amazing menu and ordered the “special” pilgrim’s menu which had four courses- caldo gallego soup and a round dish of pulpo and some sort of succulent-melt-in-your-mouth meat and fries and of course bread and a bottle of wine. I ate as much as I could and when I was asked what I wanted for dessert all I could manage was a little cup of espresso but it was perfect.

In walking such a long stage it felt as though I had launched myself into another Camino, with a different group of people, leaving behind nearly everyone else I had met. But the unexpected conversation with André reminded me that we never know what we will find on the Camino, and that one goodbye may lead to a new hello, that new experiences are also waiting to be discovered.

Next Post: Day 6 on the Camino Primitivo

Day 4 on the Camino Primitivo, Samblismo to La Mesa, 28km

September 6, 2021

YouTube Video Day 4 on the Camino Primitivo

Hospitales Day!

We woke up to a breakfast of toast and yogurt and coffee and one by one left the albergue to head into the mountains. I walked this route six years ago, but it felt like such a different Camino then, for so many reasons. And the day I walked Hospitales back then, the weather had been bad: foggy and misty the whole way up the mountain, we couldn’t see anything. But today? Today was glorious. You could argue that I could have had nicer weather; the morning was mostly overcast, so I didn’t get blue sky and sunshine (not until the afternoon). But I had the views, and it was incredible what was up there all along.

This is when the memories really came flooding back, too, from that first walk on the Primitivo in 2015. It was on the Hospitales day that year that I made my three Camino friends, the little family I stuck with for a few days. That time with them- “the kids”, I call them, because they were all in their early 20s- was really special. And it was at the top of the Hospitales route, when I was huffing and puffing up the final big hill, that Nicolas emerged through the fog, sitting on a rock and eating an orange.

This year, as I made that same climb, I could see more clearly to the top, and I could see Nicolas’ rock. I was stronger this time, still a little out of breath as I climbed the hill but my legs felt solid. I’d moved just ahead of Giuseppe and Rudolph and Antonio during the climb and so it was just me at the top, in the wind and the clouds, next to the Nicolas rock and I looked down and I convinced myself that the curl of an orange rind would be here, half hidden in the grass. I looked for it, I looked for the evidence that I had been here before but I suppose the evidence, if we’re lucky, is all in our heads. It’s in the remembering, the recognition of a rock, the whiff of an orange rind on the wind.

My sentimental notions didn’t last long; Rudolf was close behind and he joined me at this little summit and we cheered and laughed because it was so beautiful there. “Most of the climbing is done?” Rudolph asked. “Really? That wasn’t as bad as I feared.” He paused, and reached down deep into a pocket of his bag and pulled out a beer, still a little cold. “You don’t happen to have a cup with you, do you?”

Why yes, in fact, I did! He cracked open the beer and poured some into my camping cup and we toasted, clinking the can and my cup together, a little beer sloshing over the sides, and we cheered and drank deeply and then stood in silence, looking out over the mountains, the clouds rolling below us, the vista stretching and stretching. Soon Giuseppe was here, and then Antonio, and for those moments it was me with my three new friends, triumphant and happy.

One by one we left our celebratory spot, I was the last to leave. I lingered behind, and then- mostly keeping Rudolph in sight- followed more slowly behind. I took my time that day. Sometimes it feels like I’m racing through my days on the Camino and I never actually am… I’m just walking fast, because that’s my pace, and when I’m feeling strong I just naturally settle into a quick and steady rhythm. But walking the Hospitales route, I deliberately slowed myself down, because I needed more time to take in all that was around me, and to just absorb being back here. Rudolph and I flip-flopped as we made our way across the ridge, pausing to take photos and videos and comment on the cows, the little purple flowers.

Just before the path begins it’s somewhat treacherous rocky descent, we all joined up again at a little rest spot with picnic tables, and that’s where we met Kelsey, a young American woman. She’d started her Camino in Oviedo but a few days before I had; she’d recently had trouble with tendinitis and hadn’t taken the Hospitales route because of it (our rest stop was about where the Hospitales and Allende paths meet up).

I could tell that Kelsey was excited to meet another solo American woman, and I suspected that she wanted to walk with me, but I hesitated. Readers of the blog will know that I’m rather intent and protective of my solo walking time, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to spend some of this beautiful stage walking and talking with someone new, getting to know them. I let Kelsey go on ahead with the others, but eventually I caught up, and I think there’s a Camino lesson in here for me. Kelsey and I walked together for the next hour or two, and while I didn’t get to quietly take in my beautiful surroundings as much as I wished, or sink deep into my own thoughts and memories, the time with Kelsey was good. She was still figuring out the Camino, figuring out who she was on the Camino, and it was kind of beautiful to witness this. She’d spent some time with other pilgrims who hadn’t been very encouraging, who’d passed judgment on the way she was walking, and I realized that I had the opportunity to be the very opposite. I could be positive, and open and welcoming. I could walk with her for a few hours, and in those few hours, could be her friend.

And then we arrived in Berducedo and we stopped to have a drink and it turned into the most beautiful afternoon of pilgrim community. I have to say, after my experience on this stage in 2015 and again this time six years later, I think there must be some sort of magic in these hills. Giuseppe and Antonio and Rudolph were already at the bar, and one by one, other pilgrims that I’d met in the last few days walked up. Karl from La Espina, and André from Cornellana, and then Kinka from Cornellana and then we were this big group, and I was introducing people and we were all smiling and drinking beer and wine and sitting back in our chairs, feet stretched out in the sun, a long and beautiful stage completed, nothing left to be done but eat and drink and be with new friends.