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!
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