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Published: October 22nd 2018
There was no peace on the Camino today.
Large groups of jubilant people converged on the Camino, possibly excited by the anticipation of only one day to walk after today.
It was a pleasantly warm day, and I started walking with a lady from NZ who asked if she could accompany her while it was dark. This was no noble gesture on my part; I had a light, she did not.
We stayed together for an hour or so and she told me about her dream to do the Way. She went to St Jean, but started walking in Pamplona, as planned, because she realised the Pyrenees might be too much for her. In St Jean she had a minor anxiety about why she was here; could she achieve this, and as an independent woman, had she bitten off more than she could chew this time. It can be a daunting proposition to step out on an 800km walk by yourself, and at the risk of sounding un- PC, particularly if you are a woman in her 60s who has never been a walker. Friends and family had misgivings, but I would bet they admire her now. She
Sunrise Over Raido
I know there’s been many of these, but they are my start to the day.
has met many people, overcome doubts and difficulties, and she will arrive in Santiago tomorrow. I’ve been fortunate to meet and walk with many people, form a few friendships, have a few laughs, learn so much from these people, and I’m so glad I was able to walk with her today.
This morning I was back to full foot preparation, as I’m determined they won’t get worse than they are. They don’t look good, with blisters, crevices where skin has fallen off, and a few toes that have changed shape to fit in next to others. But they have done the job. Today was a better day than yesterday, and a sock change halfway, and two or three rest breaks, have hopefully ensured a trouble free 20 kms tomorrow morning.
The scenery along the Way is very lovely at this stage, but tomorrow we will pass the airport, enter suburbia for the final time, and this final last experience will be over.
An odd thing happened at lunch today. We stopped at O Ceadoiro Restaurant Near O Pino for a break and I ordered a tortilla for lunch. The owner commented that it was the best tortilla
Dave Loving It.
No rest for the wicked. The good folk from Arizona are walking straight to Finisterre the day after Santiago
on the Camino, and after I replied, “Really?”, he insisted I do a small tour of his kitchen, see my tortilla in the pan bubbling on its edges, and then repeated his claim. Most unusual. After eating it, I’d be tempted to agree. He sought me out before I left, for an opinion. I agreed and he wandered back inside, nodding, with a wide knowing grin on his face.
There’s a man with pride in his work.
It’s said your Camino begins when you reach Santiago, and to a degree that’s true. But I have shared many special times with people and it’s hard to see it end. I know if I had problems help was never far away, as I would help others, but the bond you form with people goes beyond that and it’s not possible to explain it.
It’s also said that, at some point on your journey, you will probably experience a bit of an emotional meltdown. Mine has just popped up as I write this, but I’m very happy to realise that while there is an element of sadness and loss attached to the end, I’ll make an effort to stay in
The Camino Conga Line
I can count 16 ahead, and I’m not looking back. All North and Eastern Caminos have joined, groups jump out of buses to walk for a while, all merging for the walk into Santiago.
touch with people I’ve met, and I’m going home to a family and friends that you wouldn’t trade for anything, because they’re priceless.
Enough of the blubbering, I’ve got to turn my socks over in the window to dry, and head out to catch some people for a coffee.
Santiago tomorrow, then 3 days wandering, then another 5 days walking to Finisterre and Muxia before a break in Paris, and home.
Tot: 2.693s; Tpl: 0.017s; cc: 22; qc: 100; dbt: 0.0302s; 2; m:saturn w:www (18.104.22.168); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.5mb