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Published: August 23rd 2008
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(WARNING: Amber Benham has previously stated that she hates hiking. Do not let that distract you from the largely positive experience she had while on a 10-day hike in Northern Spain.)
I LOVE Santiago de Compostela. My memories of the 4 months I spent there in 2002 are filled with warmth, laughter, new friends, great wine, smooth cheese and sturdy umbrellas. In fact, I barely recall getting caught in the endless downpours or seeing my breath in the shower of my unheated apartment. So fond are my memories of Santiago that I, in a psychotic display of enthusiasm, agreed to strap on a pack and walk the 186 miles from León to get there!!
I can’t lie. The idea of walking that many miles in a mere 10 days did not conjure up the visions of R&R that I generally look for in a vacation. However, it did sound like a challenge with a fantastic finish line. Besides, the more exercise you do while traveling, the more guilt-free food you get to consume, right?
So we packed our bags and studied the route. Friends in Málaga lent us the necessary equipment and gave us plenty of scary advice.
“You hired a guide, right?” inquired my co-worker the night before we left. I began to feel that we had signed ourselves up for something akin to a jungle survival course. With all the gear and guidance, we were ready for a multitude of disasters.
It shouldn’t be shocking that our first day of walking was a bit rough. But wow, I have never hurt that much. By the 7th or so hour, my ankles could barely lift my feet and my lower back slouched in rebellion at the weight of my pack. We had to find a bed to sleep in pronto or I was going to fall over and stay right there, in the middle of a field.
As luck would have it, there was a teeny, tiny village just ahead with a private albergue, one of many pilgrim hostels in the camino system. Not even caring what facilities were offered, we dropped our bags and eagerly handed over our passports to the obviously drunken man who claimed to be in charge.
When I stood up after signing the pilgrim log, my spine simply wouldn’t straighten. Rather than walk upright like most two-legged creatures, I
resigned myself to limp the cobblestone streets like an 80 year-old woman in her 3rd trimester of pregnancy. I think we made it 2 blocks before exhaustion consumed us and we headed back for an early dinner.
Flash forward to 5 am the next day. CreeeeEeek…shuffle, shuffle…rustle…swish, swish…BaNG!! I drift in and out of consciousness, but eventually succumb to the sweet murmur of darkness.
Now it’s 6:30. We awake to find ourselves the ONLY people left in the hostel. Panicked that we have somehow missed the camino boat, we quickly dress and head out walking.
This day is similar to the day before. Flat, long and boring, but somehow a bit less excruciating than the previous day’s walk. I remember very little, aside from the hunger and the fear I felt at the sight of the mountains in the distance.
Reporting every detail of our walking wouldn’t capture the immensity of it all. It doesn’t matter what towns we slept in, what we had for lunch or what we talked about. What matters is that we pushed our bodies and minds in ways we never had. Each day we improved our mental endurance and increased our
physical strength, and somehow we managed to have a good time.
We quickly learned that when sharing a room with 3 to 200 fellow pilgrims, there is no point in trying to sleep in. Our rising hour soon became a quarter to six and our bedtime (now this is embarrassing) 8:30pm. We were wild things a couple times, daring to socialize until 9:30 or 10, but we always paid for it the next day. If we didn’t give our feet enough rest, they fought the next day’s labor.
Considering that most pilgrims travel alone or in pairs, the comradery felt on the camino astounded me. Wisdom was passed along, stories were shared and everyone’s naked ass was welcome in the giant dormitories. Literally, anyone’s ass. I’m accustomed to sharing a locker room with women or changing around my family, but the sight of an elderly man’s butt as he shimmies into his jammies is just not something I’m familiar with.
Nevertheless, the albergues became my home away from home on the camino. I grew accustomed to cooking in a new kitchen every night and finally perfected my showering technique (keep towel high and dry, shampoo on the
ground, soap in plastic baggy to protect it from unidentified hair in drain, dry off, focus on not falling, on with the pjs, grooming=comb hair).
Did you know that climbing up a mountain is easy? Well, at least in comparison to climbing down the other side. That’s a real doozy. We were in so much pain after our descent down Romperodillas (literally, “break your knees”) that we had to stop for a drink before noon. But if it weren’t for the intense pain in our joints, we might never have discovered the glory of deep-fried sandwiches. Imagine a tomato-ey, tuna-ey, cheesy filling between two slices of thick bread, dropped in a vat of oil. Yum-my!
And the Canadians! How could I neglect to mention the two coolest people on the camino? Richard and Kathleen from Victoria walked into our lives, really they breezed right by us on the camino, but we caught up with them by nightfall. Everyday we’d set out a good hour before they did, but within 45 minutes they’d pass us by, all while smiling and not seeming to sweat or pant at all. How they did it, I’ll never understand. We introduced them to
sangria and pulpo (octopus) and they pointed out the notorious snorers we should avoid bunking near (when desperate for a snooze, Kathleen was known to whack a guilty snorer with her sleeping bag).
At the end of our ten days, we had a lot to show for our efforts: blisters, sunburns, unexplained rashes, filthy clothes and a heap of gorgeous pictures. I still wouldn’t say that hiking is in my top-10-ways-to-spend-a-vacation list, but it really can’t be beat when it comes to exploring new landscapes. The photos can’t do justice to the beauty of Northern Spain, but they are a first step to capturing the 310 kilometers we trekked. Enjoy!
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Mom
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If you ever do that trip again, sign me up! Your writing is enticing as always. Love ya! Mom