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.
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