Category: Camino 2022 The WHOLE Way

The symbol of the Camino is the scallop shell. It is rare to see someone walking without a big one hanging outside the backpack. Donna and I bought ours Day 2 of our first Camino, the Portuguese Coastal Route in Spring of 2017. We carried them again on the 300 miles of the French Way from Burgos in 2019.

Donna framed hers and hung it on her living room wall, because, well, who’d have thought we’d be walking the Camino a third time? Let alone the whole 500 miles. She said she’s “unframing,” bringing it out of retirement one more time.

 

And here’s the plan for them:
• The “theme” of our Camino is gratitude.
• On the inside of each shell, I will write the name of something or someone I am grateful for. So will Donna, independently, on her shells.
• Every morning we each pull a shell from our respective collections and carry that shell until we find a place to leave it. Sometimes there’s a connection. Like last time, when I left Laurie Guest’s shell in a corn field. (Read her bio, and you’ll get it.) Sometimes there’s no connection; it just looks like a nice place for a shell.

I also plan on leaving a few shells blank…for the Camino angel(s) I’m sure to meet along The Way.

And the yellow one in the middle? That one’s for me. I don’t know where I’ll leave it, but I’ll know it when I get there.

Stay tuned!
(Which is another way of saying, subscribe up there on the Home page. Whenever I post, you’ll get an email telling you I did.)

We left LAX at 1:15 p.m. Friday, Aug. 12, arrived Paris at 9:30 a.m. and then connected to a flight to Biarritz. We got to Biarritz hotel around 4 p.m. Saturday and pinkie swore that we would not go to bed until dark.

 

 

 

We found a restaurant around the corner from our hotel that served an  “early” dinner at 7:30 p.m. We were tucked in by 10 p.m. and slept until 8:30 a.m. Sunday.

We had time to kill until our 2 p.m. transfer by car to St. Jean Pied de Port, so we took off walking in the other direction from the day before, headed for the lighthouse.

 

 

We could have walked to the top of the lighthouse, but a) it was an hour’s wait, and b) the next day we would be climbing 3,000 feet into (and over?) the Pyrenees. Or, for perspective, like climbing that lighthouse 20 times.

We had a cappuccino in a cafe and then waited for our ride to St. Jean. At 1:59 p.m. a driver hops out and yells, “Taxi!”

Right on time! Awesome. He hoists our two suitcases into the trunk, jumps back in and says cheerfully, “To the beach! Yes?”

Two big suitcases and we’re going to the beach, he’s making a joke. “Ha ha. St. Jean Pied de Port,” I corrected.

”The Port?” He clarified as he pulled away.

“NO, no, CaminoWays, St. John Pied de Port!”

”Airport?”

“No, we are going to St. Jean Pied de Port. To walk the Camino.”

”OK, St. Jean Pied de Port.” He enters something into his phone and Donna and I realize we have the wrong cab.

I said, “We already paid. CaminoWays paid. Wrong cab. Wrong cab. Go back.”

I don’t speak French, but I could tell that the words he spoke were probably not in the Duolingo curriculum.

As he made an illegal u-turn and double parked outside our hotel lobby, we saw a very confused looking couple talking to man with van. They were obviously packed for a day on the beach.

“Wrong cab, wrong cab!”

Our driver was sweet and friendly. Thankfully, he spoke Spanish, which seemed so familiar to me. It was a one-hour drive to St. Jean, and the scenery was stunning. Winding roads through tall mountains spotted with farms.

St. Jean Pied de Port

We’ll cross this river in the morning and the adventure begins! We walked around all afternoon hunting for the beginning of the Camino.

Found it! And then we reorganized every thing into what goes in our day packs (rain gear, first aid kit, Pilgrim’s Passport and 2 liters of water).

And we had two full-sized beds in this room on which to spread it all out.

We are ready. Buen Camino!

 

 

Before and After

We left St. Jean Pied de Port at 8:15 am. The red, white and green flags were strewn across the old town’s cobblestone streets to celebrate a Basque festival. We enjoyed marching bands during the day before and tried not to listen to the bands that played two-hour sets at 9 pm, midnight, and 2 a.m.

After

25K, nine hours and change later, we arrived at Roncevalles. The only place to stop for food or rest or beverage was at the 7K mark. We weren’t really hungry at that point but we split a “tortilla” to load some carbs.

(Tortilla in Spain is essentially potato and egg “quiche,” gluten free for yours truly.)

Our legs were wobbly and at the very end I said, “I feel like my legs are boiled spaghetti and I’m trying to control them with my brain alone. No tongs.”

In Between Time

The Camino through the Pyrenees is an uphill effort we’d never experienced before. Thankfully, the weather was perfect. We never had to put on rain gear, for one. And even when climbing above the tree line we enjoyed a light breeze. Sometimes we gave out-loud thanks for both shade and a breeze in the same stretch.

From whence we came is pictured above. Zoom in and you’ll see a road far below where I was standing to take this picture. Way down yonder is St. Jean terrain.

Bucolic is the word Donna and I used to describe the trek through and over the Pyrenees. At first we thought those beige things were rocks. Nope. Sheep.

Cattle roamed free and did not mind us at all. They wore huge cow bells, but we quickly learned that the free range herd of horses (not pictured on either of our cell phones) also wore bells. And so did the sheep.

This is the perfect setting. Shade. Flat-ish. Canopy of trees. Unfortunately, the same setting turned ugly when we took an “alternate route” that went straight downhill for almost 4K. No pictures to share because it was all we could do to not tumble down the trail.

At Last.

We had to wait in line to check in to our hotel room, and I was able to chat with the other travelers in Spanish. I asked questions of the receptionist in Spanish and translated the answers to English for Donna. Strangely comforting is the best I can describe the feeling or relief to be in Spain, where I have more words than in France.

 

We have a third floor room loft room at Hotel Roncevalles. Two full sized beds pushed together is luxurious to us.

View from one of the windows actually doubles as air conditioning. Thankfully it will be a cool, crisp night.

Before the projected rain pours down manana en la manana.

Buenas noches.

Having survived Day 1, we looked forward to Day 2 being shorter by 4K. The weather report said 88% chance of rain throughout the route, so we thought we were so smart to anticipate that it might still be a long day due rain.

Knowing we’d be donning rain gear a good portion of the day, we packed it at the top of our day packs, ready for prompt retrieval. We got an early start (for us, anyway) around 8 a.m.  Before we got out of the hotel parking lot, quarter-sized rain drops splatted at our feet.

“What’s the rule?” We asked simultaneously. (See previous post called ABC’s of Camino under R for Rain.)

The Rule (learned the hard way): If it starts to rain, you put on rain pants AND your rain coat. And we did.

The walk out of town was through a beautiful forest, so we convinced ourselves that it must be a light rain, because the trees were blocking it from hitting us.

Fast forward about 5K and we realize that we must be taking one for the entire Camino team in the area because it still had not rained. Figures, we put on the rain gear and it doesn’t rain. We were too superstitious to take it off until after lunch, but by then the sun was shining.

We knew we had two mountain passes to climb that day, but we still had time to enjoy the scenery. And this time, get pictures of the horses.

 

 

What goes up must come down.

The uphill effort had our hearts beating hard, our lungs at full speed and capacity, as well as our leg muscles saying “hello again.”

It was the last 4K that killed us. Already tired and sore from the day before, we had to navigate a steep, rocky, craggy and often slippery trek down hill 1000 feet.

How anyone could complete that segment without poles is beyond me. We stopped talking. We stopped smiling. We were miserable, and it was all either of us could do except walk more like a four-legged creature than the humans we are.

Plant a pole, lean into it with your weight and then raise a foot and put it down oh, so carefully. Plant the opposite pole on your left side, put your weight into it, raise your other foot and carefully put it down.

Rinse and repeat umpteen times.

Going uphill is hard because you can hardly breathe and plod along slowly. Downhill is worse. Especially at the end of 7 hour day. Donna said it perfectly, “Everything below my butt hurts.”

We dragged our lower limbs into the town of Zubiri and had to spend a great deal of time in attitude adjustment. The shower helped. “Legs up the wall” was first. Then stretching as best we could.

Again, too tired and sore and exhausted to take a lot of pictures. But here’s the  room for the night, and the view:

 

Manana is Pamplona!

So much to tell, so little bandwidth to do so.

Day 3 was walking into Pamplona. Yes! THAT Pamplona ala the running of the bulls. We just missed them a month ago. Walking into a metropolis is not the most fun, so by the time we arrived at our lodging, we were a bit snarly ourselves.

A Pilgrim’s meal was not included that night, so we had to hunt and gather at nearby tapas bars. Poor us, right? More on that later, maybe.

Day 4 Out of Pamplona

We were excited for this day because it includes a climb up Alto del Perdon, the Hill of Forgiveness.  At the top is a sculpture depicting a number of Pilgrims either on foot or on horseback as they make their way along the Camino to Santiago.

Look closely and you might see two people photo bombing everyone else’s picture.

Problem is, we took all sorts of amazing photos before and after the one above, but the WiFi at our lodging “down the mountain” in Puente de Reina has the

s l o w e s t

bandwidth EVER. The above is the only photo I could upload all night.

So, trust that we are safe, sound and strong at Day 4. We’ll get to the next post when we can.

Manana en la manana,

Terri and Donna

The day started beautifully, from a little rural cottage in which we were the only Pilgrims. (Others were couples and families on vacation.)

Thankfully, the hostess said she would see that our luggage was taken down the stairs for the transport company to retrieve in the lobby.

In the charming city of Viana, we were treated to a walk down Calle Mayor (think Main Street in any Spanish town) right as 12:00 mass was letting out of the massive stone church.

Like salmon swimming upstream, we went into the church for a look around. The place emptied out pretty quickly, and I saw the priest exit through what looked like a private door to the left, let’s call it 9:00 on an old school clock. We were behind the altar (at 12:00 if you’re still with me), went past where he exited, and poof, the lights went out.

”I think we better head for the exit or we’re going to get locked in here!”

As we strolled to the exit, out comes the priest in his casual attire and says in Spanish, “I am happy you are here, but you are lucky that I am here, too.”

He had already locked the exits and escorted us to one he unlocked for us and wished us a Buen Camino.

The Calle Mayor was filled with people having lunch, beer, wine, bocadillos (snacks). Here’s what it looked like as a selfie from the end of the street.

Then, all we did was turn around and here’s a 900-year-old building behind us.

We then headed out of town. 

And missed a turn.

We had walked at least 2K on a paved road through a vineyard (in the heat, sans shade) and were starting to be concerned. We hadn’t seen a single other Camino walker or biker in an hour. Finally a car approached us and I flagged him down. 

I told him in Spanish that I thought we might be lost, and he said in Spanish, “Yes you are. This is not the official Camino.” 

He (and his son in the backseat who spoke broken English) redirected us from whence we came. 

As he pulled away, wishing us Buen Camino, I muttered to Donna, “I would have jumped in the backseat if offered.”

Donna said, “I would have stood on the back bumper and hung on for dear life.”

All in all, we added about 5K to the day and an extra 90 minutes in the heat. I ran out of water in my “camelback” with 4K left to walk through the city of Logrono, and there, like a little Camino miracle, appeared a water fountain in a park.

We arrived after 5 p.m., but we arrived. Here is the happy photo we took long before being almost locked in at the church and then a little bit lost after that.

 

We are doing about 22K a day and just finished the first one in full sun. Scenery is spectacular, with the vineyards starting to border our trail.

Friday night is in Estella, a picturesque, bustling town with OLD and new butting up against each other. Again, however, the WiFi is weak.

I don’t know how many pictures I can upload, so the caption will have to tell the story. And they are not in chronological order. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today, Saturday, Aug. 20 was Day 6 of walking, and we’ve covered more than 100K to date. Today’s “mileage” was 22K to our lodging. We knew it would be a tough one because of anticipated heat (93 degrees at the end of the trail), and the last “services” were at 9.5K.

That means no water fountains, no towns, no nada for four hours (or more?). And, did I mention the heat?  In preparation, we decided to take the risk of leaving our rain coats, rain pants and backpack covers in the suitcase to make our backpacks lighter.

We filled our “camelback” water pouches to the brim, 2 liters.

Water or Wine?

Look what we found at the Monastery at 3K mark—la Fuente de Vino. The fountain of wine. One tap is water, one is wine.  We didn’t bring cups, so we had to improvise.

Until two Italian bicyclists showed up and offered a tin cup.

Yes, it was bueno. Donna and I each took a sip and called it Camino communion.

(It has taken me more than two hours to create the above post. It’s getting close to bedtime, so I’m going to try and post the picture (I have a great video that I may put on Facebook) that captures the dramatic, albeit somewhat desolate scenery.

And we realized how precious our Camelback water reservoirs were when we stepped to the side of trail for a passing car.

“It’s the police!” I said. “What in the world are they doing out here?”

The car with two uniformed officers stopped beside us, rolled down the window and asked, “Esta bein? You OK?”

I answered yes in Spanish and the officer driving knew enough English to communicate that they were patrolling the Camino with the sole purpose of helping peregrinos (Pilgrims walking the Camino). He asked if we had enough water, we said we did by wiggling the spigot of our water bladders.

Then he told us that there are no water fountains in Los Arcos, which was our destination. And nothing between us and Los Arcos.

OK, we’re OK.

“If you need help, you call 062,” he said as he pointed to the outside of the driver’s side of the vehicle. “We here for peregrinos.”

When we truly looked at the vehicle and read what was on the side, we got so excited and touched by the focus of these men and their mission.

”Can we take a picture?” I asked in Spanish.

“Si, si,” he said, and took my phone from me.

And then Donna said, “We want YOU in the picture!”

Kojak of the Camino!

We ended the day in good spirits. That’s a win, trust me. The last 2 or 3K is when the mental game comes into play. Horse-to-Barn mode is not the best, but Grumpy Town is worse. Today was “Hot and Bothered, but Proud and Powerful.”

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s our little code.

You chat with someone along the way, and you don’t learn their name, so you give them a label. So there’s Miami Man. Or Red Shirt Guy. New Zealand Gals. If we could keep up with the Boys in the Band, we would have. But they are three student-age looking guys carrying fully loaded backpacks and each one has what looks like a violin case strapped on, too.

Once you encounter someone again, maybe then you chat enough to ask the person’s name. Three years ago we forgot so many names that we promised each other that we would take pictures and capture names, too, this time around.

We said goodby to Bernard and Mrs. Bernard from France in Los Arcos. They were “only” walking as far as Logrono because the had to bet home in time for their daughter’s wedding.

Monday Night Made Merrier.

Monday night our lodging did not have a kitchen for serving dinner, so we had a voucher to a nearby place. Donna and I sat down early, which in Spain means 7:45 p.m.

A few more tables started to fill and we heard English being spoken at each one. New Zealand Gals were at one table (Sue and Michelle) and Aussie Couple were at another (Mark and Brooke). By the end of the evening we asked Man Bun the waiter to take our picture.

(L to R): Brooke and Mark (Melbourne), Sue (NZ), Donna, Me, Michelle (NZ).

Our room Monday night also got a nickname the moment we opened the door. Red Room. Not R E D R U M, I clarified to Donna (and for the benefit of any Stephen King fans.)

How hot was it Monday?

Very. Heat rash is an issue we hadn’t anticipated, but one trip to the Farmacia and we had relief cream.

Tuesday Morning Delight. 

Turns out Sue and Michelle were staying our hotel. We saw them at breakfast and the introduced us to Mark and Margaret (M & M) from New South Wales. 

We know that Sue and Michelle are staying in the same town we are Tuesday night, so we are hoping we see them again and perhaps can eat together. 

As for Tuesday’s walk, I took a couple of videos to show the contrast. I’ll do a separate post and see if I can get them to upload. If not, I may have to resort to Facebook. (Sorry, Mom. I’ll email them directly to you if that happens.)

 

Surprise!
Your Lodging is 6K Past Where You Thought Your Day Ended.

We knew it would be a 24K day, which is long enough. When we checked the map profile against our lodging reservation. YIKES. We are in for a 30K day. (18 miles)

This is when the mental game kicks in. We instantly readjusted our mindset and took off. We voiced our gratefulness for clouds, wind, even a light drizzle, dense forest trails that took heat out of the equation. We arrived to our lodging at 6 pm, which is late for us. But we did it!

Now comes shower, dinner, crash.

Tomorrow, Friday, is the last day of new territory for us. We arrive in Burgos, and from there on, we’ve walked the path before.

That also means we will have walked a total of approximately 300K by end of day manana.

 

 

 

The terrain and scenery can vary dramatically in one day.

Buenos Dias in the Vineyards

Buenas Tardes (Part 1)

Buenas Tardes (Part 2)

And, for fans of the “Room with a View” Series, here’s that night’s lodging.

We reminded ourselves that patience is a virtue and waited for her suitcase to be retrieved and delivered. We sat in the shade, in a cafe on the Calle Mayor (Main Street), comforted by cold sangria.

The view from the room’s window? Good reason to search elsewhere for the sangria.

Later, waiting for the “early” dinner seating at 8:30 p.m. at the other Parador in town, we were treated to people watching on the square.

We didn’t get to bed until 11 p.m., so not as much sleep as we would normally like, but when in Spain . . . You’re going to eat late.

Here’s our selfie the next morning, in front of the hotel’s tribute to Peregrinos. (That’s us. Pilgrims walking the Camino.)

And then, the highlight of the morning was seeing two new favorite young people. Meet Ponytail and Provence. (She’s Ponytail. He’s Provence. More on them later.)

Electric Fan!?

Awesome  Let’s do laundry

And now, we turn it around to cool us as we sleep.

Buenas noche.

Hornillos de Camino to Castrojeriz: Stage 14

The calm before the storm. Actually, there’s only 47% chance of rain tomorrow, Monday. The “storm” I refer to is the Meseta. Google “Meseta Spain.”

Today was only 20K and we were treated to hills and dales and sunflower crops that went on forever.

People often ask if we are sisters. So, that’s me, Terri, above, and Donna below.

On the way, Donna snuck in a video. Click the link below. (Mom, you wanted to hear her voice, too!)

Donna Does a Video

14th Century Ruins of a Pilgrim’s Hospital

Just when we were ready to huddle around the trunk of a tree by the side of road to get some shade, the road turned and we both said, “OH! I remember this place.”

You can get a bunk bed in the “albergue” room, but there is no electricity. We sat in the shade a while, cooled off and tried to imagine what the full hospital must have looked like in the 1300’s.

A caretaker was inside what looks like double doors in the photo above. I went in and looked at some of the photos on the wall, made a donation. He thanked me and wished me “Buen Camino.”

I joined Donna again on a bench in the shade and noticed that a man we’d seen off and on all day had taken a seat in another shady spot. Donna and I smiled, asked him how he was doing (Que tal? Esta bien?)

He was gingerly taking off his hiking shoes, which we had seem him do before, when we encountered him earlier in the morning.

Next thing I see, the caretaker is walking across the courtyard area with a small plastic tub of water and a towel. He knelt down and helped the man wash and soak his feet.

Gulp.

Camino angel in action.

 

Castrojeriz to Fromista to Carrion de Los Condes
Monday/Tuesday 8/29 and 30

We knew what the morning would bring first thing—a steep climb that felt like it went on f o r e v e r three years ago. We had to stop three or four times back then. In fact, it was on that part of the trail that Donna “invented” chanting something in a rhythmic cadence to get ourselves to the top. More like a prayer, though. Not ala the Marine Corp.

Below is the sign that tells us peregrinos what we’re in for.

Zoom in on the triangles and you’ll read that it’s 1050 meter elevation gain. That’s 3,444 feet.

Because setting and keeping your own pace is critical on segments like this, Donna and I agreed, “See you at the top,” and set off.

Surprisingly (to me, anyway), we stayed within a car length of each other and only stopped once to catch our collective breaths.

We left several of the “grateful for” shells at the very top.It’s probably one of those “you had to be there” moments, because it’s difficult to capture the dramatic elevation gain with an iPhone.

Donna said, “It’s as close to heaven as we’ve been so far.”

The “Aha!” Revelation

As we walked around at the top, we high fived each other, and agreed that “it wasn’t as bad as I/we remembered it.”

And then we did some more math and realized that three years ago, this climb occurred on Day 3 of our Camino because we started that one in Burgos. This time, it was Day 15.

We. Are. Stronger.

Downhill From There

What goes up must come down, and that applies to the Meseta. Click the link below to hear and see what lay ahead of us down that hill.

The Other View from the Top (The Meseta)

The Rain in Spain Fell on Our Plain

Remember the 47% chance of rain I mentioned in the last post? Dead on. We made it up the hill and quite far in cool cloud cover, for which were most grateful.

But we didn’t out run the rain.

Another friend of mine told me once that “there’s no such thing as bad weather. Not if you have the right clothing.”

We did. Rain coats, rain pants and backpack covers got us through. And then, poof. The rain stopped and we were in sunny skies.

The last 3K of our path was delightful with shade trees on the left and a canal on the right.

Short Day Tuesday, With the Last 5K Not So Enjoyable

We had 20K to walk Tuesday, and most of it was along side a highway. No shade. Crops on all sides. And no shade.

We were so happy when Yonicka (yawn-i-kah) caught up with us. We met her Day 1 and saw her again in the rain on Monday. She walked with us a short way and told us about a fork in the Camino that would take us a little longer, but it followed a stream and had plenty of shade trees.

Our HERO!

 

The last 5K were back on the highway. Did I mention that there was no shade?

The mental game (for me, anyway) was, “OK, this is like walking to the gym in Long Beach, and doing a workout. I can do that. Except I don’t sweat this much walking to the gym. OK, so it’s more like a HIIT class. (HIgh Intensity Interval Training). Except that it’s only a 50-minute class and air conditioned. OK. I used to do 90 minute Bikram yoga in 105-degree room for 90 minutes. Yep. That what this is. Except I have long sleeves, long pants, a hat and 10-pound pack on my back. Other than that, pretty much the same.”

And here’s how we celebrated after getting to our lodging. (A monastery converted into a hotel.) We crossed a river on the way to the monastery and saw families enjoying a swim in the river.

We checked in to our room, donned bathing suits and waded in the cold, fast running current.

And pay no attention to my silly water tossing antics in the video below. Watch the dog in the background. (I miss my Rusty!)

Terri Splashing, Dog Fetching

I’m having trouble uploading the room photo, and it’s 11 pm. Time to say buenas noche, and I’ll try again on Wednesday.

 

About 400K Down and About 400 More to Trample

23K in Great Weather this Time

It was this segment of the Camino three years ago that taught us the hardest lesson we were to learn.  When you put on your raincoat, put on your rain pants, too.

Why?

Because without rain pants, the water runs down your leg and into your shoes. Outsides of the shoes are Gortex, which is waterproof. Not true for the insides.

From 2019:

The Rain in Spain 2019

From today, Sept. 1, 2022:

Sunny and Dry in 2022

Australian Friends from Adelaide

We’ve been enjoying Paul and Jenny from Australia, and tonight we encountered them again, here at the half way point. We may not be in the same towns again, so we were excited to ask a local to capture a pic.

Buen Camino to all!

 

Pretty Close to Perfect Walking Today

Donna kept remembering and talking about the “tree-lined trail” in the Meseta. Over the past few days, there were plenty of snippets of that, but she kept saying, “No, there were crops on the left, the trees, our trail and a road, but not a highway.”

Today was the day. Of the 18K we walked, at least 16K was lined by trees. Like this.

If you look closely, you can see even older, shadier trees in the distance.

The sun was on our left, so we had dappled shade the whole way. We have established a trifecta of walking conditions, by the way.

1. Flat.
2. Shade.
3. Breeze.

Today we had them all, almost all the time. Cloud cover counts for bonus points if it’s hot. Today was cool in the morning, warmer in the sun, but with the shade trees, it was absolutely delightful.

The Morning Selfie

Every morning we take a morning selfie. I don’t post them all, but when looking through them last night, I thought we need to get a little more creative.

Here’s this morning’s, as we left Sahagun.

How Fast Do We Walk?

Not very, if we compare ourselves to most of the other people we encounter. But we don’t compare ourselves. We walk our own Caminos.

My Apple Watch will announce each kilometer and the pace. We started out being happy with 3K an hour, which is around 20 minutes for 1K. (Stop snorting and laughing!)

Turns out that we were tracking around a 20-minute kilometer when we were, I don’t know—climbing the Pyrenees or carefully crawling downhill.

Now, for the most part, we average 13-15 minutes per K, which means 4K per hour. A 20K day = 5 hours. Every now and then we hear my watch say 13:05, or 12:40. Our “record” was 12:15.

This morning we decided to see if we could beat our 12:15 time and get it down to 12 and a single digit. (12:09, for instance.) When my watch announced 2k, we quickened our pace.

We didn’t talk.

We didn’t change lanes to smoother terrain.

We kept to one path, and right before the path started to go uphill a bit, my watch announced, “Kilometer 3. 11 minutes, 15 seconds.”

We stopped and cheered and were dumbfounded that we cut an entire minute off our previous record.

And that was that. We wanted to focus on the path, the trees, the Meseta.

Beauty is in the iPhone of the Photographer

We came to a vast hay field that was freshly cut, not yet baled. For as far as we could see, there was nothing man made. Donna took a picture of me taking pictures.

And here is the picture we voted the best.

We decided we love the Meseta.

 

 

Sunday, Sept. 4

We managed to arrive early in Leon because we remembered how much we loved our day off here in 2019. No days off, this time, however.

CaminoWays booked us at a different hotel, a Parador. We couldn’t believe it.

 

More later, when I get a chance and good WiFi.

Ultreia!

A Series of Photos and Captions and Here’s Why

As we have walked these last 24 days (24 DAYS!?), I’ve looked forward to what Donna and I call “library hour,” which is when we Air Drop photos back and forth and I write my posts.

On the trail, I often think about what I might write later that day, and I look forward to doing so. (Words are my love language, remember?)

Today, Day 24, we arrived in Rabinal del Camino, a hamlet 21K from Astorga, which is where we stayed last night. Where we met Sue, Sue and her husband Chris, all from England. They told us about Steve and Carol from “somewhere in Southern California.” We met Steve and Carol this morning at breakfast.

We’re all here together in the same lodging tonight and we plan to eat together.

But when we walk into the lodging, we see Marie and Hilda, the fast-walking, delightful sisters we had dinner with four days ago. They’re from South Africa. This is their fourth Camino, and they plan to do 10 full Caminos. Perhaps one a year. We had a snack with them for more than an hour and invited them to join us and “the Brits” at 7 p.m.

And here’s what went through my head:
OK, I want to post. It’s been 2 days, and my almost-90-year-old Mom looks forward to each and every one. I love that! But I don’t want to miss being “here,” in the moment, with new friends I may never see again, but whose memories will last forever.

So I decided to just post some photos with captions. (And look how much I just wrote without a single photo! I know.) Here goes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll post when I can. Buenas noche!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s a video of the El Bierzo wine district that we walked through on Friday, 9/9. I butcher the pronunciation in the video. Should be Bee-air-zoh. Brain boil after 22K of walking in the sun.

The El Bierzo Wine Country

Tomorrow, Saturday, Sept. 10, we walk to the foot of O’Cebreiro and spend the night. O’Cebreiro is Latin for “Oh, so steep, you think you’re going to die.”

Saturday is my birthday. All I want is to kick some O’Cebreiro ass the next day.

Stay tuned.