Day 32 ~ Ruitelan to Filloval

(Sunday, June 2nd)

Our dinner last night was absolutely divine. This comes as a pleasant surprise as our check in procedures and afternoon activities were interesting. The two men who own the albergue must have had an argument just prior to our arrival because they are both quite foul with each other in front of us, and one of them seems like he might explode at any moment. He is horribly rude to all of the guests while the other is jovial and singing loudly from the kitchen while he prepares our meal. It appears that the more he displays his happiness, the angrier the other man becomes. This renders him stomping around growling at everyone for various reasons in Spanish. Its mildly entertaining to watch, but I can say that because I actually managed to stay out of trouble, which is completely surprising.

We eat dinner with classical music playing softly in the background which seems quite civilized compared to our regular meals. There is a great group of people who have turned up here. Two pairs of French women who are doing the walk together, Rebecca from Milan who started the same day I did (she was also at Foncebaden, and enjoyed dancing for hours to the music, we couldn't figure out where she was getting all the energy), Ramon from Barcelona who is truly the loveliest man I've ever met, and coming in at the very end of the day just before dinner, Maria. We are all so happy to see her, we had been very worried since the walking today was so difficult.

We are all put to bed early with bellies full of cream of carrot soup, Caprese Salad, Pasta Carbonara that is to die for, and custard desserts. There isn't a single thought about our grumpy little host who seems to have disappeared and left us in the care of happy host.

We are pulled, rather abruptly, but at the same time in a soothing manner, out of our slumber at 6am by classical music booming from downstairs. It's an interesting way to wake up, all at the same time to the loud but beautiful music. It feels as if its a dream and we look around at each other for some confirmation that its actually happening.

Our hosts seem to have sorted their disagreement, as things are much better at breakfast. I glance at the guest book as I make my entry and read a previous days comment, "The meal was excellent, it's too bad that one host is so happy while the other so grumpy!" So, maybe this is a regular occurrence after all. Oh well, the food was delicious and we all slept very well.

Anke's blisters are very painful today. I can tell that she's really not sure what to do. She tries several ways to cover them but because they have ruptured, the Compeed will not adhere. We struggle to get started which isn't good with continuous steep climbing ahead today. We are headed to Oceibero, I'm actually hoping to get a good bit further beyond that to make up for lost distance yesterday, but Anke is going to have to take it slowly. My blisters, which didn't rupture, have almost healed since yesterday afternoon. I decided to shower & then keep my feet in the sun for a few hours to dry them out, rather than soaking them. Now with Compeed covering them, I feel absolutely no pain at all. My feet seem to have reached an overall toughness thats equivalent to leather jacket. I say this because they look & feel like a pink leather jacket & skirt set that I had in the late 80's. Yes, it was quite the ensemble.

We strike off and poor Anke struggles from the start. After about 1k she can barely walk and must stop for a break. I am feeling anxious and chomping at the bit to have the mountain behind me. We make plans to meet halfway up the hill for a coffee and to check in with each other.

The morning is lovely, quiet, and still. All I can hear are the faint clammers of cow bells in the distance and an occasional bird chirping. We are walking on old Roman Road for a good portion of the way up and the turned stones sometimes make it difficult to keep your footing. There is a section where I am finally able to make out the ancient cart tracks (I think) that the guide books mention so often. These grooves are thought to have been made by centuries of carts traveling over the stone, actually creating a rut. Considering how difficult it is to merely walk up this mountainside with a pack on, I can't for the life of me imagine being in, on, or behind a cart full of goods making my way up this hill.

When I make it to the first little village coffee bar I am thrilled to see Annette! We sit and chat for a bit while I wait for signs of Anke. After a bit, Annette strikes off and Anke limps her way in. I can tell from her face that she's in a lot of pain. We talk about Compeed, Moleskin and various other possibilities but Anke just wants to sit and have a cup of tea. She is not sure what the day holds for her, so she encourages me to move on and make my distance. She has decided to walk another 5k, very slowly, to Oceibero, and then stay the night there and allow her feet some more time to heal. We sadly exchange all our information and take a couple of photos together before saying goodbye.

Once I'm walking again I struggle to think about anything other than Anke. The look on her face was so sad, I could see how disappointed she was. I know it's better that she walk at her own pace, especially now, and not try to keep pushing through the pain to go faster and risk a more serious injury. These are the lessons we all learned those first couple of weeks, some of us with more grace and success than others. I have been so lucky, and I say that because I'm not one who is known for respecting my own limits. I have many strong, smart running women in my life who not only encourage me to run, but also, to do it wisely. They are constantly reminding me of things I should pay attention to, like proper training, pacing, and how my body feels after long runs. These are the voices of reason that play in my head when things start to get out of hand, even on the Camino.

It seems like after only moments of walking along deep in thought that I find myself at Oceibero. I am shocked at how quickly the time and distance have passed. The small stone mountain top village is absolutely lovely, but the four tour busses full of people make it difficult to enjoy. After the peace and solitude of the morning on the Camino, the place feels & sounds like a zoo. As I quickly make my way out of the village I find Annette, Thomas & Rachel, Michael from London, Mark & Enagi and Ramon from Barcelona. We all check in with each other with the latest news, conditions of feet, where we plan to stop next, how awful all the tourists are, (as if we are some elite club with a rational claim to a higher level of tourist status) etc. Poor Rachel is still really struggling with her feet but is hanging in there with loads of support from Thomas.

After everyone is caught up, we all strike off again. Several of us in the wrong direction. Ramon and I end up walking down a road for about a kilometer before realizing that we needed to be high up on a ridge-line that parallels the road above. We quickly decide to backtrack rather than continue on in hopes of meeting up with the path again. Little did we know that this first occurrence would set the tone for our many confusing and utterly lost encounters to come. Ramon and I would never make a successful team for The Great Race...or any race for that matter, but we laughed and thoroughly enjoyed each others company the entire time.

Now that we have entered Galicia, there are cows everywhere. Most are not contained in any type of fencing, and have long, frightening horns. They tend to hang out along the Camino and graze on the grass along the edges, because let's face it, it must be easier walking along this well worn path than climbing up and down mountains through rough fields and forest all day. The only problem being the pesky pilgrim traffic. At my first encounter there was a farmer moving the cows along the side of the road with two dogs. This was scary enough even with the small metal roadside barrier between us, but I kept thinking that all one would need to do is turn it's head slightly and just poke me a little in the ribs or something. Say that one out of the hundreds of cows passing me decides that it doesn't really like the color of my neon green jacket or, much more likely, my offensive body odor. Many pilgrims have discussed that we would encounter this in Galicia and I've heard several say things about the cows all being gentle females who are used to people walking near them, etc. So, am I the only one who sees long horns and immediately thinks two things; Male & Mean? (Apparently everyone but me has forgotten about the mad female cow fight we watched in the Meseta.) Okay, so lets say that I can actually get to a place where I imagine they are all gentle females with long sharp horns. Assuming that I walk past approximately 500 in one day through Galicia, isn't there the possibility that just one of them is having an off day? I don't know, maybe feeling a wee bit bitchy because someone kept her up all night? Just a slight twist of her head and even the tiniest little bit of a gorge and I'd be added to the Death on the Camino List. My marker would read something like, "Here lies Bethany Porter who was gorged (really more of a tiny puncture) by a female cow who was experiencing a freak mood swing (most likely because she could sense the pilgrims completely irrational yet psychotic level of fear) while on the Camino" and then in very fine print "we don't in any way hold the cow, or it's owner responsible for the incident"

So, this is the type of crazy going through my head all day long as I pass cow after cow after cow. Well, guess what?! That pales in comparison the the mental anguish that was caused by a lovely South African woman who wears Beats headphones and sings (more like a scream) to the top of her lungs while walking the Camino, all day long, everyday...And the strolling harmonica player. Now the funniest part is that I had heard stories of both of these people, and of the unfortunate souls who had found themselves unable to escape their noise for hours....and I had met them both off the Camino (in albergues) and had no idea who I was in the company of. They are both just lovely people, and the harmonica player, Brock, can really play beautifully. The problem is that after say, four hours of hearing the harmonica, even very faintly in the distance, you kind of start to go nuts and want to shove it down his throat...sideways.

There is really nothing I can say about the other woman. She is a lovely, soft spoken, super quiet person when you meet her but when she puts those headphones on and starts walking she becomes an absolute monster. We've all tried to figure out what on earth she's listening to and my very best guess is Screamo.

So, after several near death cow experiences, I was lucky enough to come around a bend and hear the most dreadful sounds. I continued to walk until I caught up with her because I just couldn't believe it was coming from her. As I approached her I smiled and waved because we had just had the loveliest conversations while sleeping in Fonceboden on the floor together, but I got no response at all. I decided to carry on because she was, after all, walking pretty slowly. This, as it turns out, doesn't matter much when you are doing switchbacks down a mountainside into a deep valley. No matter how far ahead of her I was on the trail, she was always just a few levels above me with the blood curdling sound radiating throughout the valley. Just when I thought my ears had actually begun to bleed, I saw a coffee bar and decided to stop and let her carry on for a while. Turns out that the bar had wifi so I sat for sometime and uploaded a few completed blogs. After an hour or so I decided it was time to get going again and was happy to start off knowing she would be far ahead of me now, and all handled without the slightest bit of hard feelings or conflict. (I had heard of people having it out with her right in the middle of the Camino) As I walked along smiling and congratulating myself for not being maimed by a mad cow or having a fist fight in the middle of the Camino, I rounded a bend to find my singing South African friend about 50 yards in front of me, standing up from her apparent picnic spot and beginning to walk and sing. It was as if she had been sitting there waiting for me to come into view.

It was only within minutes of my mind racing to figure out what to do now, that I began to hear the faint sounds of a harmonica approaching me from behind. I was actually sandwiched in between them. The two of them together were definitely more than I could bear. At this point I made a critical decision. Before Brock got around the corner to see me (or so I thought) I cinched my straps down as tightly as I could and began to run. I passed my South African friend with a smile and the friendliest wave I could muster and continued to run for about 2k until all I could hear was silence.

Once again, very pleased with myself for avoiding any sort of conflict, I walked for another 5k in complete peace and then stopped for a treat. The restaurant that I stopped at was in the middle of nowhere and just beautiful. The cheesecake that I had with my peach nectar was so good that I decided on the spot that I wanted to have dinner here. I asked the owner if there was a place to stay close by and she told me that the house next door had just opened as an albergue. There was no sign and it wasn't listed in my book, but she assured me it was very nice. I made my dinner booking and walked next door.

The albergue was brand new and lovely. It appeared that I was the first person to ever stay in it but a quick peek at the guest book told me they had been open for a few days.

I took my time in the shower and then did my laundry and hung it in the sun. As I sat outside writing in my journal and drying my blisters in the sun, I kept an eye out for my musical friends. Today was a good day, even with the terrors of cows and strolling musicians, I made my 34k and I still feel great. Had it not been for the best cheesecake I've ever had, I could have easily continued on. Food is about the only thing that can stop me dead in my tracks.

Dinner is nothing short of amazing. My decision to stay was fully justified. I have a mixed salad with tuna, pulpo, rice pudding, and all with Ribeiro, a white wine from the region that I have grown to love.

It turns out that I'm not alone in the albergue after all. I keep watching, and secretly hoping the musicians don't arrive and check in, but as the afternoon carries on I am joined by two awesome ladies from Germany, Margot & Gabby. Then, after dinner, when it's dark outside and we are all in our beds, an absolutely exhausted Maria arrives. She says nothing but walks in with a smile, takes her shower quietly and then climbs into her bed next to us and immediately goes to sleep.

Day 31 ~ Villafranca del Beirzo to Ruitelan

(Saturday, June 1st)

Our day starts later than planned because we were so tired. Several pilgrims stayed up until the wee hours partying in the little courtyard just outside of our room. I don't really want to get into finger pointing, but it was definitely Mark & Enagi along with some of their newly acquired Camino friends. They might have gotten the stink face from a few of us at breakfast, not that they noticed because they are the happiest Camino party people I've come across yet, apparently even with wicked hangovers. It's hard to be angry with a big beaming smile and hug that greets you with, "Good morning sunshine!" in a thick and somewhat mocking Spanish accent.

Maria is nowhere to be found. She has apparently gotten up very early and masterfully packed her pack in complete silence, and started her journey. She attended dinner with us last night but sat at the very last spot on the table, the furthest point from me, so I didn't get to talk with her much. We have chatted on the path in passing and then just brief chats when stopped at a common rest spot, but I would love some relaxed time to really talk with her.

Anke and I decide to stay and have breakfast since we are already running late. We have also looked at the maps for today and have chosen to walk through the mountains rather than on the road which will be considerably more difficult but, as the guide book promises, well worth the effort. I love that Anke is wanting to go this route too, she didn't even consider the road route for one second.

Our first reward, as it turns out, is breakfast. We are treated to a buffet style breakfast which includes absolutely ridiculous things like poached eggs on toast, and assorted breakfast meats to include chorizo and English bacon. We are all just beside ourselves with joy. As if it could get any better, our host provides us with giant jars of homemade preserves and fruit butters to have on our toast. This is so different from the typical Spanish breakfast of day old toasted bread with tiny little single serving packets holding approximately one teaspoonful of butter, and marmalade. It doesn't matter if you plan to eat 12 pieces of toast, you are still expected to make due with one tiny butter packet and one tiny marmalade packet, and asking for more brings about looks of complete shock and exasperation.

Our second reward, is that we had the honor of meeting Yurgen and his dog Roxy, who are walking the Camino together. They are quite the pair and remind me of my very dear friend Barry and his dog Roxy, in Cornwall. Anke and I fall head over heals with both of them and are happy to begin our day walking with them.

We head off on our planned 30k mountainous day with full tummies and big smiles. The sun is shining and the views are beautiful, but the trek is quite difficult. So far, the guide book is spot on. The difficulty hits us right off the bat rather than allowing us to ease into it. While we struggle to climb straight up in the air, Anke and I chat about her life in Berlin. It suddenly dawns on me that she must have experienced the reunification of Germany, so I ask her what it was like before and after the wall came down. This was apparently the perfect question because it sparked a conversation that lasted many miles and many mountains.

I'm not sure quite what I expected of her response, I guess to hear her say that it was awful living in East Germany before, but that's not what she said at all.

Anke was 24 at the time that the wall came down. She was married and pregnant with her son. Their lives were good, she and her husband both had good jobs, a nice flat, and a little money saved. She said that most everything they needed was in ready supply and good quality, like food for instance, all being grown or produced within the country. Healthcare was also very good and the educational system was excellent. The goods that were hard to come by were anything imported. She gave the examples of CD's, or name brand blue jeans, really anything that came from outside of East Germany. They were not only hard to obtain, but very expensive. But, she reminded me that they were just things that someone wanted versus the things they needed to live a happy healthy life. She truly felt like everything her family needed was available and they were quite happy living that way. There were just some minor inconveniences when it came to obtaining imported goods.

One thing that blew me away was how difficult it was to purchase a car. She said the typical waiting period was 10-15 years to buy a car, and then once your name came up on the waiting list, the purchasing process was a whole mess in itself. This was seen as a bit of a hassle but because everyone had a job, a house, healthy fresh food, good healthcare and there were such good schools, it really wasn't considered a horrible thing to wait for imported items.

When the wall came down everyone in East Germany lost their jobs, houses, and the money they had saved lost half its value, literally overnight. Anke said it was good that she & her husband were so young and had only saved a little, but for older people, half of their savings just vanished, and they had no time to replace it.

She said that there was such widespread stress because everyone was in the same situation. There were no people to offer support, no government agencies for instance or even family members because every single person had the same problem. Some people had family, or friends who lived in West Germany for support, but not many. She said there was no sense of community for a long time but rather an "every man for himself" attitude. She felt like that was the hardest part to endure.

Now, that everyone is completely through the adjustment, she says that overall most things are much better. The education system, however, being the only exception. Still, she says that she had a very good life before, and I am just so surprised to hear that. I'm not sure why I had such a negative view of how life must have been for the people living there and I find myself wanting to dig up old US news programs to see just what the media was telling me.

As I walk along taking in the beautiful rolling hills of the Spanish countryside for hours listening to her story and trying to imagine living through such events, I realize what a great Camino moment this is. This amazing woman and I connected by chance on the Camino, something that probably would never have happened otherwise, and in just two days we are the closest of friends.

As I sit here in the sunshine writing in my journal, I know that we will remain in close contact for the rest of our lives. Just as I will with Jenny, Annette, Cheri, and several others from this journey. More Camino magic, truly the best kind.

Anke and I really hit it off, just as Jenny and I did, but the thing is, there are so many other Germans they could have chosen to walk with. And communication would have been much easier for sure! The Germans on the Camino outnumber the other nationalities all put together, and still at about 3 to 1 this year it seems. They are great walkers, that's for certain. I am feeling so fortunate that I've gotten to know these lovely ladies, and my Camino Niños as well. I miss them all so much. They have checked in every couple of days so that I know they are all doing well. I am really hoping to see them again in Santiago.

I was going somewhere with that last bit and got sidetracked. So, my name in German is Betina. Pronounced Be-Tina, with a short e sound. This should really be my Camino name because every time I'm introduced to someone from Germany as Bethany, they automatically change my name to Betina, or even worse, the shortened version which apparently is Betty. I fought this for the first few weeks on the Camino by continuing to correct people, but now to save time and general frustration, I just introduce myself as Betina if I know they are from Elbanyo. ;)
I flat out refuse to be Betty though!

I am still learning rudimentary lessons on the Camino. The first is never to say anything like, "I believe I'm good now" or, "That phase seems to be behind me now" when someone else is talking about blisters and you still have 7 days to go. It's much like saying, "I'm so glad it's not going to rain today" at 10am in Seattle. The second thing I learned was just after I had stopped to place large Compeed bandages on my two brand new heel blisters. Compeed doesn't stick properly if you have applied ibuprofen cream to your feet since your most recent shower. Of course, I haven't ruled out that I'm not just having sympathy blisters with poor Anke who has acquired a couple of whoppers today. It's her second day, so that's almost expected, but new blisters on day 31? It makes absolutely no sense at all.

In the end, our planned 32k day gets reduced to 24k, and we both stop in absolute agony. For me, this means two things. I must now walk 34k tomorrow to keep with my arrival plan of Santiago by June 8th, and I get to stay a night in Ruitelan. This is another of the albergues that Sean from Seattle recommended.

It turns out to be a very nice consolation for the shortened day and new blisters. Anke and I shower and then sit outside in the sun while she soaks her feet in salt water and I write in my journal. Today she is settled, there is no desire to go out and explore.

We are joined by several familiar faces as the afternoon carries on. Many are like us, filled with frustration at the difficulty they experienced today, and the new blisters they have on their feet, but thrilled with the beautiful terrain we are now walking through.

Day 30 ~ Molinaseca to Villafranca del Beirzo

(Friday, May 31st)

The morning starts much earlier than I had planned, thanks to the woman in the bunk above me. She's not even French, she's English, I just don't know what to say. No matter her nationality, she's rather unpopular with everyone at 5am this morning.

Dinner last night offered lousy food, but great company. In addition to Thomas & Rachel from New Zealand, I was lucky enough to dine with George & Anita from Malta (who were also in Foncebaden) and Dorothy & Kris, two lovely ladies from Tazmania, who I have had the privilege of walking off & on with for a few days now. Such a fun group of people. We laugh so much at dinner that the disappointing meal is hardly noticed. George is an absolute character, taking peoples phones & cameras off the table when they're not looking and taking outrageous selfies before ever so carefully putting them back. He manages to do this to several people without getting caught.

Dorothy & Kris are also most interesting and amusing ladies. They walk along together and chit chat, all day, everyday, and its never dull. Each time I've come upon them they've been having the greatest conversations. The first time they shared a favorite Camino game with me. The goal is to figure out how to drop the line, "Well, when I walked across Spain..." and make a solid connection to any topic that could ever come up in conversation...say at a cocktail party. They do this for hours as they're walking along and it's just so highly entertaining, especially the way they say the line, drawing it out with an air of complete snootiness (their accents make it perfect), nose held high in the air and all. Then collapsing in a pile of laughter. These two impressive ladies who live in Tazmania, backpacked through Thailand together twenty years ago, and decided it was time for a reunion of sorts. They have so many good stories. The other amusing thing they like to do is debate whether their lives have been extended by five years from the exercise and many benefits of walking the Camino, or reduced by five years because of the additional wear & tear, sun exposure, etc. They go along for hours weighing the pros & cons trying to outdo each other. I told them that I think they'll find its a wash, that we will all just break even, but they just ignored me and continued because, really, there's no fun in that way of thinking! By the end of dinner my sides ache from laughing.

Before I head out in the morning I say a quick goodbye to everyone and get contact info. Rachel's feet are not good. Both of her heels are covered in massive blisters. I give her two large sheets of moleskin and leave she and Thomas knowing how worried they both are of the day before them.

I set off alone to Ponferrada, my body feels good and the sun is shining. Yesterday, being the best day on the Camino yet, (and there have been so many good days) has left me in a blissful state of happiness. The terrain has also become more beautiful and that combined with the weather has left even the grumpiest of pilgrims to smile uncontrollably.

Since Ponferrada is a large town, I decide to stop at the pharmacy for new supplies of compeed and ibuprofen cream. I then linger around the magnificent Templar Castle a bit, and decide to sit along the Camino for a quick pastry & coffee. While here I see Anita & George from Malta, Annette from Washington, Linda & Mike from San Francisco, Kathy & Wayne and Lorne & Sharon from Canada, Susan & Dick from LA, and Thomas & Rachel. This was the hotspot apparently. After chatting with everyone, I realize two hours have nearly passed so I really need to get a move on if I'm going to make it anywhere today.

As I walk out of town I see a green backpack ahead of me, just like Jenny's with a yellow flower, and I get a lump in my throat. I run up and peek around the giant green pack to see who is in front of it and a beautiful big German smile greets me with a "Hello" but it isn't my sweet Jenny. We make introductions, her name is Anke and she is from Berlin. This is her first day on the Camino and she is rather unsure with a "deer in headlights" kind of expression. I can tell she's thrilled that I am talking with her, and I think she can tell that I am also thrilled to have someone to chat with. When I explain about my friend with the similar backpack, we decide that it was fate that we met and we should walk together for a while. Anke is relieved to have a "Camino Guide" as she calls me, and I am thrilled to have met such a kind, bright woman. As we walk along and chat we find that we have quite a lot in common.

Anke has one son who is 24, and still lives at home. He and his father like to build and fly remote control helicopters. This means that family holidays are usually spent doing just that, at different conventions around Europe. Anke usually goes along and tries to find things to do near the convention sites, but after years of this she's decided to strike off and do her own thing. When she gets to this part of the story she smiles from ear to ear but with tears in her eyes and I can see how proud she is of herself for actually making herself go and do it, even though she was a bit scared and she misses her family. I too understand this feeling and with tears, smile along with her, thinking, aren't we just the pair of awesome mothers here. That's it, as we look at each other crying and smiling our friendship is forever sealed.

As we make our way out of the city, there is a section of path with tables set up and local people selling things. This is the first time I've seen this, but I had heard that it becomes more common as we get nearer to Santiago. The Spanish economy is the worst inside the EU, or maybe they are neck and neck with Greece, I'm not sure but there are many comments made by other EU members about their tax dollars going to these two countries in particular. I actually find the people who have the stands set up to be rather refreshing and enterprisingly minded for Spanish people, most of whom have seemed completely content to only work a few, if any, hours each day. We have many a joke about the Spanish economy and the fact the the customer must do all the work if you wish to purchase something. It's like a scavenger hunt to find a store that's open, and double the fun if you expect an open store which actually has the items you want to buy. Often, a three hour search for an item as simple a scarf (I mean everyone in Europe wears them right?) will culminate with the defeated purchase of a chocolate bar and fanta because in the end that's all you could find. It seems there's absolutely no mindset for marketing products or businesses whatsoever, and yet the Camino is purposely wound in and out, up and down hills, to go down the high street (Calle Mayor) through every inch of every tiny village so as to make pilgrims walk past the locked, bolted, shuttered, doors and windows of every business in town. If it weren't for this, the Camino Frances would surely only take two weeks to walk vice four to five and there would only be 4 hills. I'm certain of it.

So, at some point in Spain there was an enterprising mind at work who decided to parade starving, thirsty, people with pockets full of money past every single business in Spain. What they didn't factor in was the total lack of desire for the Spanish people to open the doors and windows and deal with the hassle of all that business so perfectly positioned outside their front doors. The irony of walking zigzags through these towns which added miles and miles to our walk, as well as hills, (because most Spanish towns were strategically positioned on tops of big hills so they could be defended more easily) past businesses which were all shut up tight, was sometimes more than we could deal with.

So, when I see these stands and local people selling fruits and handmade crafts I am only too happy to open my pockets and support them. We stay for quite sometime and chat with a man who carves wooden shells by hand and sells them. Each shell takes about three hours and he sells the for 16euro each. If this were the states they would be at least a hundred dollars for 3 hours of time, plus the craftsmanship & artistry. He ties them each with a leather lanyard. They are lovely.

It was well worth the stop but now we are way behind schedule so we try to pick up the pace. Anke moves pretty quickly with her giant green pack. We find ourselves walking through rolling hills that are covered with grapevines and cherry trees. Near the end of our day we see a white house high on a hilltop, that looks like something from "A Walk In the Clouds" We stop and take it all in. There are grapevines for miles, and at the end of each row is a rose bush planted and blooming, we assume to give the grapes a hint of flavor but we decide further research is required. The house is spectacular and clearly belongs to the owner of the massive vineyard.

We finally pull ourselves away from the beautiful views and make our way to the albergue. I had called ahead earlier in the day to make a booking for us because it was clear that after my two hour breakfast & chat, then our constant lingering, we would be arriving late. When I called and specified two personas, I was asked what countries we were from. For me I said USA, they actually say it as a word instead of an acronym, (oosa) and then for Germany in Spanish it's Alamania, but for some reason I said Elbanyo, which is "the toilet", and then the man on the phone, Anke, who was listening at my end, and I all started dying laughing. It was several minutes before we all regained the ability to speak again. Sometimes my brain just drops these little comic surprises, I've no idea where it comes from. When we arrived he was rather anxious to meet this woman from the toilet. I was so embarrassed. It's one thing to be lacking language skills, but something else entirely to be an absolute dimwit!

Showers are the first order of business as we are quite sweaty and smelly, but the sun beats the cold any day. Next is laundry and journaling in the sun. Anke has a hard time settling since its her first day, she's ready to go out and explore. Once my things are hung in the sunshine to dry, we head out to see the churches.

The churches are beautiful and each situated on hilltops, overlooking the city, but in perfect view of each other. There's also a magnificent castle which we are told is privately owned by a wealthy Spanish family who do not permit tours. Still, that doesn't stop Anke from attempting to get inside (I love this woman!).

It looks as if the churches were built to be in view of the castle or vice versa. The churches are also very minimal inside lacking the ornate baroque style alter panels that the cathedrals have all had. For Anke these are her first glimpses inside a cathedral, I tell her she is starting with the most perfect weather, terrain, and churches.

We head back and are starving for dinner, but it's late. We were told 8pm, which is three hours later than we want it already, but still we must sit and wait. At 9 the food starts coming out and we are all ravenous. The food turns out to be well worth the wait, and after last night, this makes me happy. I eat helping after helping, my body no longer able to reach a feeling of fullness no matter how much I eat.

There is a great group of new people at dinner, plus Yana and her husband who I haven't seen since Fonceboden. Mark & Enagi are also here, as are the young Christian Americans, but they are too hungry to wait and don't take the late dinner with us.

After dinner I get to chat with David (Macchu Pichu) and Niel a little bit and then head to bed. Earlier in the day Anke and I had selected two available lower bunks but we come in to find that Anke's things have been moved to an upper bunk. I am upset for her because I really haven't enjoyed my upper bunk nights, but she is giddy bouncing around like a little girl in her bunk. This makes everyone in the room happy. There are only women in the room, which is a very nice change. After a few minutes, the mystery lower bunk owner comes in the room, it is Maria.

Maria is much older than everyone else on the Camino, but we have no idea how old because she flat out refuses to tell. She walks with a very slow gate and a distinct limp, so she begins walking every morning before the sun is up and doesn't stop until 6 or after. She moves slowly but steadily with a smile and puts in long days so she can get the distance she needs. She never has a single negative thing to say about anything, or anyone period. She holds the love, admiration, and respect of everyone who she comes in contact with. Whenever she arrives at an albergue, always at the very end of the day, room is made on a lower bunk with no questions asked and not one bit of anger. You can generally see pilgrims scurrying about when she arrives offering help which she undoubtedly refuses. Whether we have met her in person, or merely heard the story of this magnificent pilgrim among us, we all worry about her, keep track of her, and love her. She epitomizes the Camino experience for us all.

Day 29 ~ Foncebadon to Molinaseca

(Thursday, May 30)

The morning is rough after sleeping on the floor in a smoke filled room. The gusting wind continued to blow smoke back in from the wood burning stove all night. We tried to vent the room several times but it was just too cold outside. Our choices were to freeze or to breathe the smoke. After a few failed attempts to solve the problem, we had a serious group discussion and chose the possibility of asphyxiation over being cold all night long.

My body is sore from lack of sleep and the long, cold previous day, but within a few minutes of moving around and stretching, I feel good. I tend to start each morning off with an acute awareness of how my body is feeling and a fear of anything abnormal. I run through a diagnostics session first thing each morning, bending, twisting, and wiggling everything to make sure my body has recovered from the previous days abuse.

I get out much later than I had planned to, but it was for a good reason. The albergue offers yogurt and granola for breakfast. This is a rarity on the Camino that I just can't pass up. I have found the natural unsweetened yogurt, which is the only yogurt I've seen and just twice now, to be absolutely lovely when combined with granola and two scoops of peach marmalade.

Still, I'm on my way by 7:30am. The morning is quiet, wet and foggy. There are a handful of people already making their way to Cruz de Ferro along with me. We walk slowly and silently, taking in every sight, sound, and feeling. As Cruz de Ferro comes into view, the pilgrims each pause for a few moments. The fog gives the giant mound of rocks a mystical look. I can just make out the shape of the cross sitting at the top, and the tiny moving figures of other pilgrims who have climbed the mountain of stones.

Once we arrive everyone tends to linger, many in prayer. Most people praying aloud, some asking for forgiveness but many praying in appreciation for their many blessings. This place holds so much spiritual energy that its hard for the pilgrims to move on. For centuries upon centuries, pilgrims have carried rocks to this very spot as a representation of their sins to be laid to rest. I shared this time with fellow pilgrims Mark and Eunagi from Barcelona (who are generally the Camino party pilgrims, but completely subdued today) as well as, a group of young Christian men from the US. I brought the Cruz de Ferro prayer for my own purposes, and offered it to others who wanted it. The young men from the US took turns reading the prayer aloud while another video taped them. I found this to be very touching, hearing them each say the prayer and seeing the support they offered each other. At the time I didn't know it, but two of these young men, during later conversations, would prompt the most productive Camino thought that I have on this journey.

The time at Cruz de Ferro was something I'll never be able to convey properly to others. As I read back through this description, it just doesn't come close to doing the experience justice. So much more than the simple events and how they unfolded, the feeling of energy pulsing through the foggy silent morning was unlike anything I've ever felt before.

I offer my own prayer and place my stone. Then spend time praying with each of the additional stones I've carried. I have one for a friend who is such a beautiful person inside and out, and a very talented artist (many of you have gotten pieces of her work as gifts) she has been battling cancer for sometime and is now, thank goodness, in remission. One for a childhood friend of my son, a brilliant boy who has been a part of our family, and somehow lost his way. One for his mother who has been through unimaginable grief, stress, and worry during the ongoing ordeal. I also have one with each of my children's names engraved to ask that God continue to watch over and guide them while they make their own Way through life.

After Cruz de Ferro, as if on cue, the fog clears and the sun begins to shine. The next stop through this mountainous region is Manjarin, and I arrive to find everyone who had been at Cruz de Ferro. We stand by the open fire in the makeshift shack and drink coffee to warm ourselves and talk about the magical morning. Every one of us struggling to find the words that can explain what we've just experienced.

While here I met an American named David. He's a Navy Jag, who is with the young American men, as a mentor. We strike up a conversation about Machu Picchu, as its one of the locations listed on the famed sign, and he shares with me that he was just there. I chat with him about my long time desire to go and hike there, but the expense which has always been a deterrent. He encourages me to find a way to make it happen, then shares a picture of himself standing high on a ridge with the Lost City of Machu Picchu behind him. In the end I assure him that at some point I will make the trip, and that I will use the incredible picture he shared with me for motivation toward my goal.

As we leave, I find myself walking with a fantastic German man named Olli. We have met several times in passing, and slept on the floor together in the smoke filled room last night in Foncebadon. He is a social worker, working with underprivileged kids in Germany. He has taught himself English by watching NFL (listening to and imitating the commentators) and by listening to hip hop music. His accent when speaking English is indescribable, and absolutely wonderful. If you walked up and heard him speaking English, you would never assume he was from Germany. He sounds like someone originally from the Bronx who has had professional broadcast training. Olli is always smiling and happy, he loves listening to his music and singing, and he walks down hills backwards to save his knees. As I would soon find out, Olli also speaks five languages fluently. Most European people truly make me feel quite inadequate. I have no excuse for my lacking language skills and I'm more than ready to do something about it now.

After chatting with Olli, and leaving him to reverse downhill slowly, I run into Daniel. He is traveling with the group of young Christian Americans. We make quick introductions and then manage to share our stories while walking along at a good pace. Some of the decisions that Daniel is faced with at such a young age are really tough, but he's determined to be intentional and do the work he needs to. I enjoy our conversation so much. After a few days of walking alone I was ready to spend time with someone and I chose well. He leaves me with a few parting thoughts and one rather innocently asked question that continues to churn around in my brain for days. As he races off down the path, I hear my name called and am so happy to turn and find Thomas & Rachel from New Zealand.

These two are still doing well, in other words, they are still walking together, talking to each other, and smiling. I can't imagine doing this with another person, but much like Lucie & Grant, they make it look easy & fun. Rachel has started to get some awful blisters and walks with a distinct limp that looks agonizingly painful with each step. Still, she smiles and chats, and is just lovely. I feel so fortunate to have found such great company today, when I really needed it.

At the end of our walk we come into the beautiful stone village of Molinaseca. It is the most picture perfect a village that we've seen yet, so we decide to try to find a hotel in the village center. After a few attempts, we can find nothing that suits our budget of 25 euros each, so we carry on out of the village. Just outside of the center we find a new, lovely, albergue for the bargain price of 8 euro. As an added bonus, Thomas and Rachel are assigned the bunk next to me...life is so very good today!

Day 28 ~ San Justo de la Vega to Foncebadon

(Wednesday, May 29th)

Today is a day for walking alone. I am now only one day from Cruz de Ferro and my plan is to make it to the albergue that sits just 5k away, so that I may leave out early and hopefully get there before the crowds.

I do have one problem, the grips on my trekking poles have come lose and slide down continuously throughout each day. This causes me to gradually succumb to a sort of Quasimodo stance by the time I arrive to my destination at the end of each day. It gets really interesting when they are not synchronized in their dysfunction and I have one that's tall and one that's small. This has led to many a pilgrim joke, as you can imagine. Once again, procrastination at its best, I've managed to put up with this for about 200k now. Both the jokes and the dysfunction, that is. It didn't really seem like a pressing matter through the Meseta, but now that I'm headed back into serious hills that some might refer to as mountains (although not anyone in the US or Canada), I figure I should get some help.

While walking through Astorga at 7am, I decided to keep my eyes open for a shop that may have some sort of glue that might work. Then I chuckle because nothing is open at 7am in Spain. Moments later when I round the bend and come into view of Palacio de Guadi, I am shocked to find a store, aptly named The Pilgrim Shop, just across the street and open. Surely there's a mistake, this has happened many times as I've wandered into the open doors of a supermacado at 7am only to be chased out by the store owner who is merely stocking the shelves in preparation for the 10am rush of customers. I walk in and find the most pleasant, smiling, English speaking man who jumps into action the minute I share my problem with him. He first glues the grips into place and then decides they must sit and dry for about 15 minutes before he adds tape for good measure. While he is busy bustling about I decide to shop around. Since he is being so good to help I feel like I should buy something, but there is nothing I like enough to consider carrying it for the next three weeks. He asks if I'm looking for something special. When I describe what I'm hoping to find, he pulls a case out from under his register and produces the exact items that I had been picturing in my mind. Okay, now things are just getting a little freaky. My poles are fixed, my daughters gifts are purchased, and all before 8am. I walk away amazed at how perfectly everything has worked out.

I was a bit disappointed with myself for not getting enough Camino work done yesterday. In the morning, I was pleasantly distracted by great conversation with Lucie & Grant who I'm so glad I met, and then I spent a good bit of the afternoon chatting with and worried about Michael and his eyes. In my experience, eyes are nothing to mess around with and I told Michael this. When my son, Levi, was about 6, he got a piece of mulch in his eye on the playground at school. Being a young working mother of two little ones with a husband who was always away, I never had a lot of extra time or money, and missing work always meant less money. First the school calls me at the dental office I worked at to tell me what happened. So I ask all the questions of the nurse, the obvious, is it still in his eye? She assures me that it's out, the eye has been flushed and all is well, but for some reason Levi continues to complain about it. She agrees to give it another hour, then of course calls me back and says that I need to leave work & come to get him. I pick him up, look in his eye where I see nothing, and tell him to just stop rubbing it and it will be fine. Can't say that I ever babied my children when it came to these things. After being home several hours and watching Levi's eye continue to water and swell, we went to the ER. The poor child had a lacerated cornea and was in excruciating pain, and all the sympathy he got from me was, "stop rubbing it and it will be fine" In the end he got special glow in the dark drops and a super cool pirate patch (every 6 year old boys dream) as well as loads of love and treats from a completely guilt ridden mama. That is until the broken foot incident a few years later when I told him to, "just walk it off" for two days before we went for an X-ray. The poor child. It must've been so hard to be the experimental one, I mean the first one.

Today I have no problem walking alone. The first half of the day is freezing cold gusty wind and the second half the same with pouring rain. No one wants to talk in this, no one wants to walk in this and many don't. I go most of the day without seeing more than a handful of pilgrims. This is good, my mind first runs through the things I've done in my life that I'm most ashamed of, which is generally the first order of business each day. There are many so this generally takes a while. While doing this, I look at all the angles to determine if there's any different perspective or light that I can see these things in, and then consider if there's any retribution that can be made at this point to people who were involved or hurt. I have to admit that I haven't made a whole lot of progress in this area. It seems that being aware of these things, and therefore mindful to not let them happen again would bring some sort of relief. It really hasn't worked that way. I did these things, I learned some hard lessons, in some instances I hurt others and I have now attempted to make amends in each occurrence, but I still don't feel that much better about any of it. Once again the Catholic religion has this figured out. Do something you know you shouldn't do, go to confession, all is forgiven.

After the daily self reflection, I get focused on each stone that I carry and the reasons I have them. My mind is easily lost in thought as I walk in the cold nasty weather and think about these people who I'm worried about, yet inspired by.

By the days end I have walked 34k in the pouring, freezing cold rain, with all my laundry dirty and wet I arrive at an albergue at 430pm and get the last spot on the floor in the barn out back, no lie. This is the closest I've ever cut it, and I am absolutely miserable when I stop, but 90 minutes later after I have my shower, put my laundry in, and eat dinner, life is good again. Never mind that I'm paying someone $20 to sleep on the floor of their barn, which has been converted into a makeshift yoga studio, with 19 others, and the smell of incense is so strong that you can't help but squint your eyes & gag a little. I'm guessing the incense is serving a purpose and much better than whatever the alternative smell would be. All in all, it's not the worst situation I've been in and I know not one single soul here, which means I should have some undisturbed time to think.

Dinner is good enough, not fabulous by any means, but very festive. The folks running this place are pretty good at this, ensuring introductions are made at each table and instigating conversation and fellowship, darn them! Before I know it I have twenty new Camino friends and hiding in a corner isn't really an option. There are some really great people here and it turns out to be such a special place. After dinner all the tables are moved around and three men start to play music. (Video on fb)
The feeling here is unbelievable and within minutes we are all close Camino friends.

Day 27 ~ Villar de Mazarife to San Justo de la Vega

(Tuesday, May 28th)

With the only restaurant/bar in town one floor beneath our beds, we got no sleep at all. The constant dog barking and gusts of wind slamming the shutters back and forth against our window all night, were hardly noticeable over the loud locals.

I started my day off with an adorable couple from the Isle of Wright, Lucie & Grant. They are so much fun to have a morning chat with that it takes my mind completely off the freezing cold gusting wind, well, it certainly helps. Everyone is unprepared for the cold after the previous sunny & warm afternoon, so we all end up on the side of the road digging through our packs to find more clothing.

The wind gusts are so strong that its hard to keep your footing at times. Later, we hear reports of an older pilgrim getting blown into a ditch, quite literally.

The most curious and disturbing, yet amusing thing that I have seen in a long time is two full grown female cows fighting. At first we notice that they are literally turning each other around in a field, and we assume they are arguing over who gets the wind block. Then they both rare back and begin to butt heads and try to push each other down. It's so bizarre that we have a hard time leaving. In the end we chalk the whole incident up to the cows being exposed to too much discovery channel. Such a shame to see, especially when they had such potential.

After a morning coffee break, we trade contact info and I set off alone. Along the way I see Thomas & Rachel from New Zealand, who I met at breakfast a few days ago. They are also such a cute couple. I chat with them quickly and tell them about Lucie & Grant who I think they would also love. They say they'll be on the lookout for them & then I move on along.

I move as quickly as I can all day, hoping to make my distance and get out of the wind. My mind is focused on the ever haunting question of where I'm from and the quickly approaching Cruz de Ferro.

At some point in the afternoon I come across a young man named Michael, with swollen puffy eyes that have tears streaming out of them. I am very concerned, of course, and try to offer assistance. He assures me that it's just an allergic reaction to something. "Uh, well yeah, don't you think maybe you should do something about it? A doctor maybe or at a minimum go to the pharmacy?"
We go back and forth about this for a while, me sounding like a mother, but he is certain that he will be fine and that he doesn't want medication...or a mother for that matter. I leave him sitting at a very cool little Cantina run by a man named David.

David moved out here in the middle of nowhere four years ago and has opened a very cool little rest & refreshment stop for pilgrims. The location is perfect as there is a very long stretch through hills that is all tree farm land with no towns or villages. He has fresh fruit, juices, teas, yogurt, biscuits, you name it and its all for donation. He has also built little sitting nooks for pilgrims to rest in. He left the city of Barcelona to come out here and live in an old farm building with no electricity and serve the pilgrims. He is one of those people with such a positive peaceful aura that groups of people just form around him and stay. He's absolutely beautiful as well as funny and very kind, so women tend to linger more so than men I noticed....as I was lingering.

Okay, so now back to Michael from London, who I left in David's care. He is 28 and has worked for the London Underground for several years but has just finished with them and is not sure what his next move is. He is going to take a year for travel and just see what happens.

He was super fun to talk with because he knows loads about Spanish history and Spain in general. His grandparents on his fathers side are Spanish and he has spent summers with them his whole life. He is really a delight to chat with and other than the fact that he's too stubborn to go see someone about his eyes, I really like him. When I left him with David, who was also trying to convince him to see someone, he could barely see to walk.

I arrive at my albergue pretty late in the afternoon and find that there is no option for laundry other than hand washing. I am too wiped out for that kind of activity and at 5pm the clothes will never dry in time. I fall asleep thinking about wearing dirty clothes tomorrow.