Blue Skies in Spain

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An early rise and Jesus knocked on the door at 7:30 with breakfast. We had learned the night before that he had summited 5 Himalayan peaks of 18,000+ feet in one year (1996), with his brother António. No sherpas, no oxygen. They had made their Everest summit just before the fated expedition that Jon Krakauer reported in his book “Into Thin Air” and had helped with the rescue operations. Hard to believe that this wiry, elfin 53-year-old had led such an adventurous life.

We had our good, strong Spanish coffee, yogurt, toast and juice, then took a few pictures with Jesus. He drove us to the outskirts on Porriño and sent us on our way.

The morning featured thick fog, the kind that leaves droplets in your hair. We walked out on the shoulders of roads, but were soon on woodland paths and climbing up what would be our biggest uphill save the last day’s walk into Santiago de Compostela.

Around noon we emerged at the apex of the hike. The fog had lifted and the sky was the deep cerulean blue that Davis and I had come to expect in our 3 years of hiking the Camino Frances. Spain has the best blue skies in the world.

After a cafe con leche at the top of the mountain, we started down. The descent was flagged in the Brierly guide for its steepness and Katherine and I joked that if we had yesterday’s rainy weather we would have just slid down. At one point along the path there was a young woman who played bagpipes and gave us a sello for our credentials.

From the top of the mountain it was a straight comfortable downhill into Redondela. What a wonderful town. It exemplifies that Spanish love of life. We got settled at our hostel in the historic district and walked out into the sun to find a leisurely lunch. A promenade along the river was just a few blocks away and there were Saturday vendors with tents and wares. We walked along until we found a restaurant that called to us - - a cafe in a busy square with people wiling away a slow afternoon.

After lunch and a couple glasses of Rioja, I returned to the hostel to take a shower and lie on the bed, with the floor to ceiling French doors open and the sun pouring in as I write this entry. All life should be as good as life on the Camino?

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