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The Camino finally gets difficult (subtitle: Spanish guys on bikes, and dogs); Day 21 on the Camino, Villares de Orbigo to Rabanal

July 17, 2014

There have been many points during this Camino when I’ve wondered when it was going to get hard for me. I actually started to feel a bit guilty about it- it was like my entire experience had been charmed, and only good things were coming to me.

I think things changed a bit today. Today was tough.

And it was tough all around: physically, mentally, and emotionally. For the first time, I really started thinking about home, and sort of wished that, for a few days at least, I could go back home and things could be easy. I wished I could take a day trip to the beach, I wished that I could sit on my couch and drink endless cups of coffee, I wished that I could hang out with my friends and shop at Trader Joe’s and do all of my normal stuff.

I think a lot has caught up with me, finally. This is my 21st day of walking, and I think I’m tired. My body is still handling this walk pretty well, but my feet hurt more than ever before. I have a few new blisters developing. Maybe I ate something a bit off for lunch today, because there was an hour or two when I felt a bit sick.

And for the first time, I ended my day’s walk earlier than planned, because I just couldn’t walk any further. I think part of the problem is that I’ve started to feel a bit invincible; even though I ended today’s walk early, I still walked nearly 37 kilometers, and most of that was a gradual uphill climb. I’m not sure why I thought that another 40+ kilometer day wouldn’t be too hard, but I did. And I felt just a bit defeated to realize that I’m tired, and that today, for the first time, I got tired of walking.

My experience last night was wonderful and just what I needed: sleeping in a beautiful albergue. Peace and quiet. Time to write and reflect. I had dinner with two Germans and that was also quiet and simple. Because of the language barrier, none of us talked much, but it was a comfortable meal (and delicous: jamon and melon, grilled meat with tomatoes and onions, ice cream for dessert and good wine and bread).

As I walked away from the albergue this morning (after a breakfast of coffee and toast with jam and honey), I thought about what a great decision I’d made, and how much I needed some time to myself.

But today, after a hard walk and not seeing many pilgrims on the road, I walked into this town hoping to see someone I knew. And there was no one. Only new faces, and it’s so strange to not know anyone. This is the first time it’s happened, and it feels a lot lonelier than I expected.

I found the municipal albergue and picked a bed, but quickly realized that I probably made a mistake and should have looked around at the other albergue options. I scraped my back twice of the underside of the top bunk bed, the shower was ice cold, and the windows bang loudly in the wind. Not many people are staying there, and the place has a hollow and sad feeling to it.

But, here’s the great thing about the Camino: either the day will improve and I’ll run into people I know or I’ll get a good night’s sleep or I’ll eat a good meal… or it won’t improve at all but tomorrow morning I’ll move on. Every day I get to move on, and sometimes that’s hard because I’m leaving people or a place that I really love, but sometimes that’s needed, because I need to move on to something better.

And even on this hard day- my hardest Camino day so far- there’ve been some good encounters. Namely, Spanish guys on bikes, and dogs. Three bikers stayed in the same albergue as I did last night, and as I was lying in bed around 9:30pm, winding down and looking at things on my phone, one of them started talking to me. I told him, in the kindest way possible, that I’d just separated myself from the people I knew for some needed time to myself (in other words: I want to be alone!). They were still sleeping when I left this morning, but I ran into them at a cafe in Astorga, after walking about 15km. The guy who’d talked to me last night came over and exclaimed, “You left without saying goodbye!” and then, “Wow, you walk pretty fast.”

Later I’d stopped at a cafe for some ice cream (on these hot days my new routine is to have some post-second breakfast, pre-lunch ice cream), and while sitting at an outdoor table in the shade, talked to another Spanish bicycler who’d also stopped. It’s only happened a few times, but I really like the conversations with bikers. They are experiencing the Camino in such a different way than the walkers do, and I like the fleeting but sweet nature of the encounters.

And then there were the dogs. This entire time on the Camino I’ve never had a dog come over and say hi, and it’s happened twice today. Right now I’m sitting outside at one of the village’s only bars, and right away an old, sweet dog came over to me, sat down, and waited to be pet. He settled in, then laid down, and has been keeping me company as I write.

I think about how people say that the Camino provides, and there’s just something about this dog that makes me think that his presence is not entirely a coincidence. I’m happy that he’s here.

So finally, things got a little challenging today. I always expected that at some point this would happen. But I’m hoping that things turn around a bit in the next few days, and the Camino shows me some more of the magic that I’ve come to know.

Next Post: Day 25 on the Camino Frances

A Stone of Burdens

February 28, 2014

There is a sort of famous spot along the Camino called the Cruz de Ferro. It’s located about 2/3 of the way into the Camino Francés; pilgrims reach it after walking for about three weeks. This huge ‘Iron Cross’- a wooden pole with a cross at the top- marks the approach of the highest point on the Camino.

I’ve read about several legends associated with the cross: how and when and why it originated, and maybe I’ll write more about it when I actually start my Camino and learn about it from other pilgrims. But what I do know, and what I’m a bit fascinated by, is the tradition of the rocks. At the base of the pole is a growing mound of rocks, placed there for centuries by pilgrims walking the Camino. Pilgrims are supposed to bring a rock along with them on their Camino, ideally choosing one from their place of origin. It seems as though this rock can represent a lot. Often, pilgrims carry a rock in honor of someone: someone who has passed away, someone they have lost, someone whose memory they hold onto.

But I’ve also heard the rock referred to as ‘a stone of burdens’: the rock represents all that you want to leave behind. Or, all that you want to forgive, or be forgiven for.

Pretty heavy stuff.

I’m not sure where I’m going to find my rock, but I still have several months to search for it. And I’ve only just started to think about what my rock will mean to me. I have a few ideas already, but I’m sure that when I place it on top of the thousands of other rocks from pilgrims before me, it’s going to hold more meaning that I could ever imagine.

I’ve been thinking about loss recently. I’ve been struck by how much loss I’ve experienced in the last 3-4 years, and I wonder: was I just lucky for the first 30 years of my life? Or, did I learn how to open my heart, to love more fully, and to risk losing/being left? Or, is this a natural consequence of getting older? Maybe it’s a combination of all three.

Last week my best friend’s dog died, and I’m heartbroken. It’s brought up loss all over again. Everyone, for good reason, thinks that their dog is the greatest. Molly wasn’t even my dog and I thought she was the greatest. Because she was the greatest. The death of a pet is different than the death of a friend or a parent or a partner, but that doesn’t change this fact: losing someone you love is hard. It is always going to be so hard.

I guess the only way to counter death, if it’s even possible, is to carry the people we lose within us. So I’m thinking about the rock that I will take with me on my Camino, and how I will carry it for over 300 miles before I place it at the base of a cross at the highest point on my pilgrimage.

And within that rock, I’m going to carry with me all of the people I’ve loved and lost in my life. I know that I’ll carry them for my whole life- it won’t end when I place that rock at the Cruz de Ferro. But I love the idea of this act: to carry something as you walk across a country, something that represents your love and your loss. I like the act of placing it down: not to leave it behind, but to be able to place it somewhere. That I can carry a rock for hundreds of miles and hold it in my palm and before climbing over the mound of stones to the base of the cross, I can look down into my hand and say, “This is for you.”

Mysterious Woman of the Rock

July 18, 2013

I’ve discovered a spot where I like to go and write, read, journal, or just sit and stare at the mountains. I came across it on my second day at La Muse, when I continued on the path past the church and cemetery. I hiked up an incline to where the path met a track, and after following this for a few minutes, saw a plaque that read “La Croix de Viallele”. Sure enough, there was a cross on top of a pile of rocks. I climbed up and took in the view, snapped a few photos, and vowed to go back.

And I have, nearly every day. It’s a great spot to work- usually cooler and windier than in the village, and completely quiet and isolated. At least I thought it was. I was sitting up there a few days ago, with my notebook in my lap, when all of a sudden a little dog appears from behind the rock and runs over to me. He’s friendly: his entire body shakes when he sees me, and he runs all around, finally settling beneath my legs. I pet him for a few minutes, and as soon as I start to wonder where he came from, he runs off.

Five minutes later I hear a voice calling out (in English): “Megan! Meg Meg! Where are you?” The voice moves closer and then I see a man standing on the rocks to my right, peering out over the valley. He hasn’t seen me yet so I take the opportunity to call over to him, “Excuse me, did you lose your dog?” I nearly startled the man straight off the mountain.

We spoke for a minute, and then he went off to keep looking for Megan. About five minutes after this I hear his voice, this time calling out to me, “Hello, mysterious woman of the rock!” He is more settled now that he’s found his dog, and asks where I came from. I talk about La Muse, he talks about living in the village. He tells me that I have found his very favorite spot in the world. “I never see anyone up here, so you can imagine my surprise when I heard you call out to me.”

Megan runs off again, so the villager follows, calling over his shoulder that I should come down to his cottage, meet his wife, and enjoy a lemonade or apéritif.

I think about how I’ve stumbled onto someone’s very favorite place in the world. I can see why he likes it so much- after all, I saw it once and decided to go back every day.

Do you have a favorite place? Somewhere that you go back to, time and time again?

Le Roc