Final Update – June 14 – 18, 2023:

First off, thank you to everyone who took the time out of their week to follow my pilgrimage, and especially to those who felt it worthy of a donation to the Inn. I apologize for the tough to read sections, bad grammar, notes within the text, and spelling errors since my daily report writing in a draft email generally happened while walking or at night after a long day surrounded by a coir of snoring pilgrims, sometimes even after a few drinks as well. I never reread or edited anything to keep it as close to my true thoughts as possible, editing would have likely resulted in me taking out cringy or embarrassing bits, but those are some important parts of my journey. If you feel like you got any entertainment out of reading this blog but haven’t gotten around to a donation yet, please consider the time spent reading at the value of buying a book, or going to the movies and help the Inn with a donation.If you would like to go on your own pilgrimage in Spain and have questions or would like some help with the planning, please feel free to reach out to the Inn for my information and I’ll be happy to work with you in exchange for a reasonable donation to the Inn of the Good Shepherd.June 14: I took a short detour through the village of Gondar to visit an albergue there. As I was walking through the narrow streets, walled in on either side, a huge golden dog suddenly appeared at a yard adjacent to the road. It was a special local breed I was told a few days ago. There was no fence or wall to separate us, and the large creature leapt at me out of nowhere with a terrifying growl. For a moment I was in terror, staring at the teeth rapidly coming towards me until not a second too early the sound of a chain and a hold on the dogs neck stopped the action. He was tied up, but still did a most convincing job to keep intruders away. Albergue Casa Garcia was unfortunately closed when I got there, and I felt like a visit to the local church could calm my beating heart. The church was closed as well, but it did have a chain running up to its bell and I decided that the village could do well getting up and unlocking some doors, so the bell I rang before quickly making my way out of town before the angry mob with pitchforks arrived.A kilometre later I climbed to ruins of the Iron Age and was completely alone. None of the dozens of pilgrims in-front or behind me bothered the extra 20 metres up the hill to the site, so I enjoyed the solitude at the ancient ruins in a perfect foggy setting with pilgrims’ chatter in the distance.I stopped at the next cafe for a morning coffee, went into the cafe to make my order, went to the patio, sat down, and there was Aurelie of course for our daily ritual. Amused by our impeccable timing without planning, I had a huge grin on my face as she approached which she commented on, and we agreed that these coincidences are becoming a bit too common. After a few minutes Simone and Michael joined us as well. Neither I, nor Simone wanted to walk all that much anymore so we took a longer break and talked about our Camino experiences, the pain, the inner peace, and the looking forward to finishing. He was down for four straight days with an injured leg, a major rash, and severe food poisoning all at once. That sure sounded like a unique experience! He had walked the Camino Frances last year as well, and everything was just east, smooth going. While his experience this time was a lot more difficult, and he lost people and groups he was walking with several times, it was a much better, and more meaningful. These days were the beginning for most, but the end for us. Conversations of new pilgrims I was passing were often about real estate, and dating life at home, very different from the real life disjointed conversations of those who had done nothing but crawling towards that Santiago cathedral for the last month or more. Priorities and interests change when you’re living out of your backpack for a single purpose over an extended period of time. Another difference is that most of us, at least regarding my friends from the way and me, are walking alone most of the day now, we know our pace, we’re preparing ourselves mentally and spiritually for the end, and we know that our friends will be there when we stop and hunger for conversation.I also walked past a Christian missionary kind of spot with two nice ladies from the US. There was an indoor portion with lots of flyers and such, but I didn’t feel like entering the crowded space, so the ladies approached me as I was about to take my leave. We ended up talking about faith and the spiritual power of the Camino, and it was nice to share my experiences with them, who haven’t been able to do a pilgrimage yet themselves. They also asked if they could pray for me as I went on, “of course,” I figured that some extra prayers surely couldn’t hurt i this final stretch. I should have asked them to pray for a water fountain though, since the water in Portomarin was horrible and undrinkable. My clothes didn’t dry at all after a day and a half of airing them and having them out in the sun, I felt dirty even after taking a shower, and I became really quite thirsty. The beer at the next stop helped a bit with the latter issue, and luckily, i didn’t have to walk much further for a water fountain. Another encounter of the day got was with a woman and a man who were sitting on the side of the road, offering pleasant conversations and little pieces of paper with hearts and cheesy, meaningful, or profound sayings. I took a Spanish one for the challenge and will be working on deciphering it over the next while. More importantly though, the woman had three dogs with her, one with a cone. That dog had been hit by a car recently and had an amputation of one of the legs, I steered our conversation that way to let her know that I too have a tripod dog, and that he is absolutely fine and happy. The reassurance helped her with her worries, or at least I like to think it did, and so I kept on with my little steps toward Santiago at high walking speed knowing that I may or may not have had an impact once again.As I got to the municipal albergue in Palas del Rey, I realized that one of my sandals I had tied to the outside of my pack fell off. It was held in place with a clip that partially broke the day before, and I thought it would hold, but it didn’t. What bothered me the most about that incident is that I was walking almost the entire day around crowds of people and when that shoe fell, not a soul felt like calling out to me or bringing the shoe along to hand it to me at my next stop. I was quite mad, but the lady at the store where I bought replacement flip flops made sure that I wouldn’t be for long. We had a lovely conversation about how she took the job at the store 5 years ago and since started dreaming of her own Camino. She also picked my brain about my experiences, I was in there for a long time and began to feel much better. I then got some groceries where I met a Dutch retiree who began his pilgrimage in Amsterdam. 3000 km of walking and it would soon all come to an abrupt end. We waved at each other and said our “buen camino”s since St Jean. Often multiple times a day, but never spoke a word beyond. As I inspected the baked goods he walked in, looked at me and said “oh look who it is! It’s so great to see you! When are you walking into Santiago, where are you staying?” We had our first brief talk and the joy on his face when he learned that we would likely walk into Santiago together was heartwarming. I still don’t know his name, and neither he mine, but we’d both consider each other family at this point. He gave me a friendly fist to the shoulder and we went off to do our groceries. I had my lunch, a family size 400g salad with 200g of Guacamole and 300g of blueberries added, and a chocolate croissant for desert. Simone sat at a bench with me chatting while I ate and we both couldn’t believe that I ate that monstrous salad in one sitting. Walking does make hungry. I followed it up with something heavier in form of a microwave burger.After two glasses of wine with Victor and John, a retiree from Austin, Texas, we made our way to a restaurant for supper. Aurelie (yes I misspelled her name until now) recommended a restaurant with octopus as a specialty which served food beginning at 7pm, but we should get there at least 15 minutes early to get a table. John and I went ahead to grab a table for the crew which mostly included friends of Victors, and by extension mine. It was John and I, George from probably the UK, Alice from London UK, and Aurelie who gave us the recommendation, though she didn’t join until 30 minutes in since she fell asleep. I met George and Alice already the night before when Victor introduced me and had a great night there. The food was fantastic, I never had non deep fried octopus, but this was great, so were the aioli fries, the mussel pate and the baby octopi. Even the sourdough bread was amazing, as well as the Sangria and house wine. The problem with the drinks in Spain is that they are oh so cheap. A glass of Sangria costs only 2 Euros at this upscale quality restaurant, a jug with about 6 glasses of content only 8 Euros. A bottle of house wine at the restaurant comes for 5 Euros. We had a fantastic night bonding over stories and jokes. As much as the walking has become more of a nuisance, the bonding in the afternoon and into the evening has become much more memorable and fun in return. The impact of having hundreds of strangers join the Camino was something I didn’t expect in the least. The long term pilgrims are now a huge family where everyone gets along and takes care of each other. We all understand what the others went through, and we all have the same fear of how we will be able to reintegrate into society after this experience. I thought the Camino magic was done when I hit Sarria, but it still carried on, though none of this will make my departure much easier.It was still a little weird to have a 10 pm curfew when the albergue’s front door closed. In Spain even children still played and ran around outside as we pilgrims were sent to bed. Speaking of bed, I was in a cubicle style setting with 3 old Spanish men that night who didn’t care at all about the 10pm quiet time to the dismay of others in the room. Until 10.30pm they chatted loudly, made phone calls from bed to make reservations and repeatedly set up their morning alarms. There were at least 40 pilgrims in that room, many of whom were either sleeping or about to sleep, and the shooshing and shouting at them did not bother them at all. That kind of disregard for others is quite impressive, I just hoped that their alarms wouldn’t be for too early in the morning for their sake. Before I’d find out about that though I was confronted with a strange man in boxers staring straight at me in the middle of the night, I looked back at him with a questioning look and his eyes shot wide open. He then gestured that he went to the wrong bed, and squandered off. Walking up to a bed you think is yours and seeing a stranger in it after you only left for a toilet break must be quite the moment. Another guy comes by, it is past midnight at this point, he gestured and said something in Spanish. I’m pretty sure he was asking me how to turn off the air ventilation system. Do I look like this place’s janitor? Moreover, why would anyone ever want to turn it off, it basically keeps us from suffocating in sweaty moist air, and it white noises the snorers to a degree. I tell him no Spanish and go back to sleep, the quickest way to resolve the issue for me.

June 15:5.15 am: “something something cinquo” it echos through the room in loud Spanish. Yeah, it’s something something five alright, so QUIET! Ugh, nice try, a person in the cubicle over begins to eat chips or something, the Spaniards around me converse, “I guess 5 hours of sleep will have to do for my 30 km walk today” is what went through my head as the chatty guy in the bed below mine pulls off my sleeping bag. I’m making sure that my glare communicates to him that if he doesn’t immediately change his sole purpose of annoying me, neither of us will make it to Santiago, me for legal, and him for health related reasons.George yesterday suggested to bring a rubber and some paper to shoot at snorers anonymously in a dark, crowded dorm. I’d love that right now, though I wouldn’t need the anonymity at this point. My fantasies however were going more the loonie toons direction. The anvil I initially imagined falling on chips for breakfast at 5.25 am moved over to audible alarm at 5.40 am guy. Innever did here the audible alarm of the Spanish guy below however, I guess he didn’t get all the sleep he wanted either. Hehe. It’s the little pleasures in life. They must be hiding an enormous amount of pilgrim homicides from the news in Spain.It was just about 6am when I left the albergue, my new, loud Spanish arch enemies not far ahead, keep your enemies close they say after all. Only a blind girl between us, she looked kind of familiar, but I was more concerned about her role as a potential witness. So we walked through dusk until the sun came up. I had a feeling that the blond girl might have been Suzie from the first day? I looked at my old pictures, she was walking behind me at the time, I look at the picture, then turn around to check and pretty quickly notice that the coat wasn’t the right colour, where did I know her from then? To help my mind unravel the mystery, I soon stopped for a morning coffee, too early for Aurelie to show up this time. I sat down and let the caffein do it’s work to help me awaken at least a bit, the last night really wore me down and I was miserably tired. I considered taking a nap in the grass by the cafe, but decided to wait until the dew dried up. As I left the cafe, I saw the blonde girl again, blue backpack, turquoise shoes… hold on! I checked the pictures again and it had to be her, I walked up “Suzie?” “Yeah?!” She responded, “have we met?” I stood there looking at her “I’ll give you a moment.” Moments later “Oh my god! Mi… Ma… Miguel… Manuel, Manuel!” After 29 days, which are more like 29 months in Camino time we found each other again. We walked together on the first day from St Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles, her, Will, and I. Our first steps on this pilgrimage. We made plans to meet up after being shown to our beds, but our times didn’t align and we hadn’t seen each other since standing in line for our beds. On the days walk she introduced me to her American friends Sidney and Riley, and we caught each other up on our adventures and I ended up passing on the nap.When we got to the municipal albergue in Arzua I made sure that there were none of those Spaniards from yesterday anywhere near me and that all beds around me were already taken, I’ll need some good sleep.The afternoon was calm, mostly spent by myself. I went to mass at 7 pm where a group of catholic girls between the ages of 18 and 26 from all over the world, walking the Camino from Sarria to Santiago with two nuns sang songs supported by guitar and violin for the congregation. It was wonderful and their voices went straight to the heart, the entire church listened in awe to their two songs and then erupted into what felt like a minutes long applause. For dinner I decided to also stay on my own and ate most of the food I kept carrying around, a sandwich I made yesterday, some old cheese with grapes I just bought, and a Snickers for desert. By the time I was done eating and taking care of the regular pilgrim’s housekeeping it was 9 pm and I was spent from last night. Time for bed.June 16:All my stuff fell off the bed this night and by all my stuff I mean my pants which carry quite a few things these days. The contents of one of the pockets spread over my lower bunk neighbour’s backpack.  I was conflicted about whether to shine a light next to his face while rummaging around his stuff, or to wait until he decided to get up. So I took my phone and shone a light near his face while picking things from around his bag, the guy responded by turning in his bed. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t find the plug to charge my phone with. I thought I put it in my pocket after the last time I used it. I looked some more, then went through my bag and all the smaller bags within it. Nothing. I shone around the guy’s stuff some more, more aggressively as well this time, but couldn’t find it. Oh well… loosing stuff on the Camino is a common reality. Everyone had their lists of things lost or left behind, mine was luckily still a bit short with a boxer,probably forgotten on a laundry line, my hat which now lives at the alchemist’s house, and that sandal which fell off my pack while walking. In the end the plug was in my bag of valuables which I had checked 3 or more times.The day today was slow. I took a lot of breaks and was still second in line at the municipally owned albergue which wouldn’t open for another hour and a bit. At a cafe on the way I was in deep thought, a Spanish e-biker began hitting on the girls on the table next to me, but tried to be subtle and funny so he thought he’d include me to make the obvious less obvious, but I wasn’t really in the mood for energy draining Spaniards who aren’t getting enough exercise to include me in their games, so I kept my answers short and signalled that I wasn’t interested. He appeared embarrassed by that and dug harder like a toddler who can’t read basic social cues. Eventually I just got up and left, grumpy old man that I am.I felt very worn out at the albergue, I thought I could walk the few days left without a hat, but it’s probably time to get a replacement to prevent heat stroke, sunscreen alone isn’t enough at this point. Because of the exhaustion, I spent the afternoon laying in my bed, and as I was dozing off, the South Korean next to me felt like snacking an apple, so he sat up heavily leaning forward as necessary on a low bottom bunk, and chewed the hard fruit open mouthed within reach of my arm, right into my ear. Not a great day yet, but most of the long term pilgrims complained about increasing fatigue, it might just be body and mind getting ready for the rest that lies ahead.Victor and I planned to meet up for our last evening together on the Camino, he will walk into Santiago tomorrow while I’m planning to stay on the hill just before the city. I couldn’t get a bed in Santiago due to a festival for that night, but I also wanted a day to lay in the grass and reflect on the month that just passed before standing in front of the cathedral. I gave the pilgrim in me another day. And so Victor and I went to a place we heard good things about, but the Sangria I ordered was quite bad, and the crowd of Spaniards sitting next to us was unbearably loud, we literally couldn’t understand a word we were saying. As time went on the crowd grew even bigger and there were at least 3 people shouting at once the entire time, so we changed our plans and went for burgers and cocktails. Simone and Alice joined us as well and we saw a group of four Americans sitting there whom Alice knew so we in turn joined them and had a great meal. Afterwards we all went for ice cream followed by wine with just Alice, Victor, Simone and myself. We talked about fatigue, finishing the Camino, and the weirdest item in our bags. The candle for me, Victor still carries the book Dune which he read, Alice brought a clothesline and a massage ball, while Simone dodged the question with jokes. Simone and I got back to the albergue just in time for 10 pm when the doors lock, I also quickly grabbed my laundry off the line which I had almost forgotten about.June 17/18It was a tough day to get out of bed, this day would be a day of many goodbyes. I made my way out the door and as I passed the first cafe after 30 seconds I see Victor sitting outside with his coffee, looking just like I felt. We were dreading this day, but it was only suiting that we’d almost finish this trail the way we almost started it, together. At a much slower pace than a few weeks ago we walked, reminiscing about what the heck just happened over the last 31 days, and about how to cope with what was to come. We periodically saw Alice on the way and caught up to Sally at some point. Sally was one of the 4 Americans we had dinner with the day before, she walked the camino because of a bible story she read. About 20 years ago she learned that her family was of Spanish Jewish origin, and not Mexican Catholic as they always thought. When Spain offered those whose families had to flee the country the option to obtain citizenship in 2014, she began working towards it and received it in April of 2023. Before she decided to walk the Camino, she read the story about Abraham dividing his land to share because of how abundantly blessed he was with all that land, but he said that they’d have to walk the land he gave from east to west and north to south. Her uncle later told her about the Camino and she knew she had to walk it, as well as the Portuguese route for the north – south bit.We got to a cafe where Sally joined Alice and as it was customary, Aurelie sat there as well, finishing her coffee. She decided to join Victor and I for the stretch to Monte de Gozo, another 5 km or so of walking and my goal for the day. As we walked, Victor needed some time to process the walk by himself and so the shuffling of the last day continued. I’m n Monte de Gozo we were met by a large music festival, tent cities covered the scenery and the stage was barely a stone’s throw from my albergue. A bit of panic set in as I was trying to cope with saying good byes, seeing my contemplative pre arrival day on the hill above Santiago dissolve into drum beats, and wrapping my head around the end of this journey. I chatted with Aurelie for a while, sitting on a stone wall overlooking Santiago until it was time to say goodbye. Victor came and sat with me until the others, Alice, Sally, and the rest of the US geoup showed up. It took over an hour for that, so we had plenty of time. During that time groups of festival visitors went by, occasionally music hammered through the air, and my head was racing. I HAD to go to Santiago. I grabbed Victors phone and would call every albergue in the city until I found a bed. The first one was happy to have me for a good price. I impressed myself with impeccable Spanish, finishing off the reservation.Simone came shortly after, as I told him of my change in plans he quickly called the same place I just got a bed at. Completo – fully booked. After a moment of thinking he looked at me and said “it’s not my day, I have to stay here until tomorrow.” And so he did.Eventually Victor’s group showed up and we made our way down the hill and through the city of Santiago de Compostella to that plaza in front of the cathedral that dictated the purpose of our entire lives for the last month. I walked a few steps ahead and replayed the walk in my mind during this last hour of walking. What a phenomenal journey! I blanked when I got to the parts around Logrono and towards Leon, the stretch where my pain was at its peak and most of my time walking was spent looking down at my feet, moving my body step by step towards that cathedral. I had the immense fortune that the three stages my app promised, the physical, mental, and spiritual hit me hard, and made my pilgrimage into more than what I could have ever asked for. I went through the pain of walking on a tennis ball sized blister and with a very significant, concerning swelling on my shin. When stumbling over fields in a thunderstorm and drinking with locals to prepare for a late evening march to make it a 40 km day I learned to let go off everything and begin to do what I wanted, not what I felt I had to and even though it seemed terrifying at the time, everything would turn out just fine regardless. And at the Iron Cross a French lady of undefinable age showed me who I was imagining I wanted to be, and challenged me to work out if I was happy with who I was, or if I needed to change to be more like the person I had hoped to be. In addition, there were many smaller events, many different people, and some breathtaking views that filled this month with a lifetime worth of memories.The last light to cross, walking through the old, careless downtown of Santiago. Bagpipe music welcomes pilgrims in a portal where stairs lead down to the plaza.This day and the next would be a time of countless goodbyes with people who have become more than friends. My family was being broken apart, I had lost my purpose of the last month, for a lot of the day I would walk aimlessly with friends trying to find the right place to sit at, but where we’re the arrows guiding us? Where was west? What cathedral were we supposed to walk to now? The impact hit us gradually, and the echoes will stay for a while, but so will the friendships. Over drinks, during walks, and while sitting at the plaza, watching people arrive at the end of their pilgrimages I found many old friends and acquaintances again, some of whom I thought I’d never see again. These meetings started a highlight reel in my mind, every face I knew made me recall memories with them on the trail. On Sunday I went to the cathedral for the moon mass. I arrived an hour early for reflection and to get a decent spot, but with the noises and some inexcusably aggressive behaviours around me, I couldn’t find any peace. As the mass started, the elbows came out further, aggression built in some who felt they deserved a better view. I was done. 800 km to come to this for spiritual enlightenment? I barely think so, it cemented how all of this never was about the goal, but the journey. I left the cathedral five minutes into the mass.I took my last few steps down the stairs onto the plaza and walked out towards the centre. Shortly before the busy, packed point 0 of the Camino I stopped and looked at the cathedral. I look at Victor next to me, we hugged as I heard friends watching arrivals shout my name from several directions. I looked at Victor, “It’s done!”

 

Update 5 – June 7 – 13, 2023:

June 7:The problem with having friends on the Camino is that they might wake you up at midnight to ask you for a phone charger, just like Aureli did at about midnight in the 24 or so-bed dorm. You may also remember my rant about having a phone at full brightness blasting light through a room and blaming the older pilgrims for that kind of lack of consideration. Well, I apologize. As I woke up another time in the middle of the night I couldn’t believe it, it was so bright, someone must have turned on the light! But no, there she was, illuminated like a sacred appearance in the corner past 5 other beds was Aureli glaring at the sun rivaling little device in her hands. I tried to gesture to turn it down, but she neither heard nor saw me, too tired I gave up and attempted another run at sleeping. How are people with audible alarms going off at 5:45 am that ring for 10 or more seconds before they are silenced still alive at that point of the Camino??? It really shows the benevolence of fellow pilgrims.Today was superhero day on the Camino, ponchos that appear like capes from the distance abound on the trail, protecting pilgrims from falling water. A slight drizzle would accompany the day, and especially the pilgrims in red ponchos look like Templars in the wrong timeline. The rain didn’t just bring out the knights, but also the sweet smell of lavender that would be ever-present for much of the day, about up until the village of Rabanal. The place was magical and looked torn out of the Middle Ages, maybe I was the time traveler today? They say the spiritual part of the journey on the Camino begins in Astorga, taking over for the Meseta which is said to be for the mind (accurate), and Rabanal really contributes here. I was very lucky to be the only one in the tiny church. A very simple, basic building with likely over a thousand years between its rocks. The impact was significant, I have stood before some of the greatest cathedrals ever built and stared upon walls of golden art dwarfing me, but this church really showed me how the spirit has nothing to do with fancy little trinkets. There was more presence in that little, brittle, falling apart heap of stones with its small Maria statue and Cruzifix than anywhere else I have been on the Camino. Hundreds of thousands of pilgrims, knights and bandits, kings and beggars, they’ve all been here for the same reason at some point, a little inner peace. It’s about the people here, not the riches being presented. After I watered my soul, it was time for the rest of my body, my bottle was empty and wanted to be filled, but the fountain at the end of the village was broken. I pushed on instead of walking back to ask for water at a restaurant, only 6 km to the next village of Foncebadon, it’s not like I’ve ever regretted not filling up on the Camino. This time the Camino did not punish me for my stupidity and instead offered another fountain for some water. I gave myself a foot massage and was soon joined on the bench by Mark from Saskatchewan. We hadn’t talked or seen each other since before Leon, so we caught each other up and wished well as he walked on while I rested a while longer.At a Foncebadon restaurant, where I was able to charge my phone, I also ordered a burger with some white sauce, rabbit food, brie, and honey on a black sesame-covered bun. I was on a video chat with home as I began eating it, and it tasted great, but about halfway through I noticed that the ground beef was pretty much entirely raw on the inside. At that point however, I was already too deep into it and if I end up with food poisoning it’ll happen either way, so I might as well enjoy the whole thing, here’s to hoping that my stomach will be able to deal with it! After a long break at the restaurant with some baileys I made the short, quiet, and beautiful climb to the Cruz de Ferro, the Iron Cross. The cross came into view from a distance and no one was near. I only heard the songs of the birds as I climbed up the hill covered in stones from across the world. I’ve heard different stories about having sins forgiven and similar but learned that there is a ritual text one is supposed to recite when laying down the stones brought. The text requests that the stone’s weight may be added to one’s good deeds on the scale of judgment when it comes to the day that a person’s contributions in life will be measured before God. I didn’t have the text on me, but knew the content, so I made my requests for those who asked me to bring along a stone in their name. I got goosebumps as I sat there at the foot of the cross, the highest point on the Camino, all alone. The only damper was the amount of garbage people left behind, no one needs to see your ziplock bag of pictures, your old shirt, or boots, but the constant need for scribbling one’s name or leaving behind some mark is another reality on the Camino. Usually, pilgrims and tourists swarm the cross, and I heard of stories of long lineups to lay down a stone and have a picture taken, but none of that was evident at this moment. I took a break in a shelter by the cross as Francesco, a German pilgrim approached the cross. He took his moment before I approached and we took each other’s pictures. After some chatting, he moved on to El Acebo, the next village, which is about 10 km down the trail. Both, El Acebo, and Foncebadon worked on establishing a safe mountain pass of their own volition, for which both towns received a tax exemption from the government. The town of Foncebadon was nothing more than a dead ghost town known especially for its aggressive stray dogs, until recently when the streams of pilgrims brought in new investors, starting up albergues and restaurants. I stayed behind debating whether to spend the night at the cross or to continue on as well. I had already done almost 30 km, mostly uphill today and didn’t feel like I needed to push on, even though my body felt great besides some pain in my right foot, nothing out of the ordinary yet though. The only issue was that it was only 5 pm and I had lots of time before bed, I did, however, buy a small book with legends about the Camino I could read and a candle for some mood setting. I also began to always carry food like meat, cheese and bread with me whenever grocery stores became sparse for a bit, so food wasn’t an issue either. I began with staying, at about 6 pm a mother and son duo came up to the cross, the mother broke out in tears and I felt a bit wrong to sit in their presence, though with ample distance. I moved out of sight to give them their time until they moved on. A car pulled over shortly after and a family of 5 walked up to the cross to take pictures and look at all the rocks and trinkets left behind. Meanwhile, a nest of chicks in a corner of my potential sleeping shelter made itself heard as the parent birds had begun to accept my presence and continued their feeding which I must have interrupted earlier. That was a much more pleasant noise than the truckers who began to roll into the parking lot, idling for some time, and shouting at each other. Around when the truckers left, I’d meet the counter-product to the mother and son duo. A French woman in taped pants, worn sandals, and with a well-used backpack came to the hill on which the cross stood, she went to the right and just walked around the cross. On her way to me, she meticulously picked up every piece of garbage she saw and put it into an IKEA bag that was wrapped around her wooden pilgrim walking stick. “Bonjour,” said the lady who could well be either 25 or 50. The youthful face smiled under some grey hairs falling below her buff-style headscarf. “I guess this is the place where they put down the rocks?” “Yes,” I replied, “at least it’s supposed to be just rocks.” I thanked her for picking up the garbage, and she replied that it was just her job, or at least that she just calls it that. I tried to strike up a conversation asking about how long she has been walking, noting that she must be an avid traveler and inquiring about where her journey is going. “No plans” is the most I could get out of her besides her backpack being her home, short and concise answers with no counter questions. Feeling defeated in my attempt, I continued watching the birds feeding and listening to nature around me, she seemed happy to join in that activity. After quite some time she got up, walked around to collect more garbage and emptied her bag before leaving at 7:30 pm into the 10 km stretch downhill without amenities. I didn’t feel she was rude, but that was her personality, and curiously enough, it was pretty much the image I had of myself when I started. A tattered pilgrim barefooted in sandals, a large bag full of garbage collected without much of a second thought, no worries or plans, just a good deed, my feet and faith. I almost felt ashamed sitting there in my down coat, with my brand new special poncho I really didn’t need to buy had I brought my rain coat from home, constantly second guessing my faith in the journey, and my garbage collection efforts have become pretty bare bones. “Her plans” I had asked, “I have none, just walking the way with God, but I hope he does.”At that point I knew I was sleeping here, by the iron cross, I made my bed of bivy and sleeping bag in a roofed shelter, used my extra clothes and towel as a pillow, lit the candle, and read my new book. And so I stayed the night looking at the Iron Cross, the temperature dropped significantly at night as the wind picked up, fog rolled in with it and heavy rain penetrated the roof of the shelter, but when morning came around the arriving pilgrims were welcomed by a mostly clear sky.

June 8:I woke up at around 7 am to the sound of pilgrims arriving at the cross, much later than usual. That also meant that I began my daily walk during the golden hour when the sunlight hit just right and after a turn or two I got to see where the climb through the fog on the day before got me; a mountain panorama that left me in awe. I didn’t feel like I climbed that high, it was so gradual. To be honest, I felt like an intruder at first, like I didn’t earn that view and wasn’t supposed to be there, but I was happy to take it anyway. It was quite chilly that morning, so I was dreaming about a hot coffee, but the next town, El Acebo was still 10 km away. So I had to do without for two hours, or so I thought. Not one kilometres from the iron cross was a little caravan with a makeshift covered patio. The lady in the caravan sold the usual cafe items, baked goods, coffee, fresh pressed orange juice, and such. I went with a coffee and a banana, and as I turned to the patio to sit down I noticed the fireplace. That lady knows exactly what we pilgrims all dreamt about on our cold morning walk, brilliant! I ended up sitting with someone who preferred their phone over other humans and so I just stared out into the mountains, sipping on my coffee.Sometimes I wonder about risk and risk perception. Parts of the Camino, which can barely be called a trail at this location, were flooded or what pilgrims call an ankle breaker; Slippery sedimentary shist rock exposed diagonally and covered in larger rocks. It’s therefore not entirely surprising that some prefer to walk on the road, in this case, a very windy, little vision and high-speed road. Given that there was only one car every 10 minutes or so it almost seemed less risky. On another day the Camino made a huge detour of maybe about 500 metres where one could just walk straight instead. The trail was routed that way to cross the railroad at a safer spot so that one won’t get hit by one, really loud train going through town a day. I went the shorter route and was even able to look many hundreds of meters each way before crossing, but walking on the 100 km/h country road with barely a shoulder for 10 km just before that was fine.Then I thought about bikes, oh what a reward it must be when you finish the climb and just roll down, down, down, while on foot, every step you go up will be punished with another you have to take down. As I had that thought I watched the pilgrims who chose to walk on the road down below from my high up mountain pass. Initially, I panicked and thought that I missed a sign or an arrow to get off the trail, especially since I could see Camino signs along the road, but I quickly realized that the bike route would lead a different way here, and that is likely what happened. And it was.At El Acebo I went to the small church where I encountered an old lady with a number of keys on a key ring that would probably rival her own weight. She tried unlocking the door for quite some time while conversing with me. I was proud of my Spanish comprehension and speaking skills at that moment, and I was excited for an opportunity to use my knowledge of the Spanish word for keys, but the old lady didn’t look impressed. Eventually, she gave up her fight with the door and opened a side door to the church for me where I lit a candle. I was quite tempted to call it an early day after seeing some advertisements for a regular-priced albergue with amazing amenities, such as a pool, a spa with a hot tub and sauna, and massages on offer. At least the pool was included in the price and it seemed amazing, but when I got to the building I quickly changed my mind. The village of El Acebo is a quaint, beautiful village with many plants and flowers everywhere. Small buildings and people with big hearts. The albergue stood at the end of the village overlooking the mountains and around, a massive rectangle with an acre of mown lawn behind a high fence. A row of giant flagpoles flew a variety of national flags as if it were the European Parliament. No, I couldn’t justify staying here.I took a lunch break on the side of the trail, on a giant boulder in a forest and greeted the people walking past, about two per minute. Shortly after pushing on, there was a little side trail with the biggest chestnut tree I had ever seen and could ever imagine. I seemed the only one really interested since the hordes of pilgrims pushed right by the 15 m long side trail, most of them didn’t even appear to notice that massive tree.Aureli overtook me as usual near Molinaseca, the last town before the city of Ponferrada to which I walked without further breaks. Molinaseca was just as quaint as all the other villages, but on top of that also very clean, which gave it a much more touristy feel. In Ponferrada, I was greeted at the municipal albergue by a grumpy Spaniard who refused to understand my Spanish. I had to show him a picture to prove that I was camping since there was no stamp for the night before. The albergue itself was donativo, meaning you pay what you can. I only had a large bill, so I asked if he could exchange it for smaller bills. He seemed apprehensive at first, but then took it and gave me change for what he thought I should donate. I protested lightly, but he chose once again to not understand me. It wasn’t too bad, he kept about what I would have paid anyway, but then also told me I still owed a euro for the disposable sheet. Ugh, fine. The rest of the day was dedicated to getting groceries and planning the Santiago arrival and transport to Porto for my flight home. Ponferrada is quite nice with an amazing linear riverside park and some old buildings, like a massive Templar castle. I booked a bed in Santiago near the bus station since I’ll be leaving there early in the morning by bus to Porto, and a hostel bed in Porto near the beach with a good airport connection. Ironically, the toughest part I still have to figure out is the transportation from Toronto to Sarnia, but that will be tomorrow’s task.

June 9:I shopped hungry yesterday, now my backpack feels stacked with bricks. This morning it was me then who almost took a wrong turn at a Ponferrada downtown plaza. There were six ways to go and still a little sleep drunk my intuition started to take over my mind. A construction worker on his way to get some breakfast stopped me less than 3 steps into my mistake, showing me the marker which was hidden behind a café’s patio umbrella. Navigating the city put up the usual test of courage when approaching my crosswalks, you’re just stepping out into heavy traffic at a crosswalk and trusting that everyone will stop, and they always do. The high speeds cars are flying by, are often discouraging, but that’s how it works here and it’s like magic. The amount of pedestrian lights they’re able to forego that way is enormous and it keeps traffic as fluent as possible. After some time I stopped for my morning coffee and was joined by Alexandro who became my go-to guy for talking sports when I need time off from the spiritual. Our chat drifted to the champions league final, the biggest soccer game of the year for club-level soccer, and we came to the conclusion that we would try to watch the game together the next day in O’Cebreiro. Hopefully, there’s one small bar that shows the game, but it’s Spain after all, probably the most soccer-crazy country in Europe.Marina from France started chatting with me on the trail and we talked mostly about traveling until we got to the Cacabelos market where she stopped for a tea while I walked on to have a picnic by the river with all the food I carried. After some food I just had to go for a swim, the river was calling and it’d be a great opportunity to give my quick dry pants a wash for the first time since i started since I didn’t bring any other pants to wear. It wasn’t a very sunny day and actually began to rain as I jumped into the freezing river. Locals and pilgrims looking down from the bridge above cheered me on and gave me thumbs up. Marina joined as well for a quick dip after she saw me when walking by. We chatted for the rest of her walk that day until I left her in Villafranca del Bierzo after 24 km of walking for the day. I had other plans though, I wanted to go to a small mountain village on an alternate route with a small albergue that serves those masochistic enough to walk up to it chestnut cakes and some of the best homemade and homegrown food on the Camino. While the regular Camino winds through a valley between the Valcare River and the road, the longer, alternate route climbs the mountains to the right of the valley. At the trail split, I stared up the steep mountain route which may well have had a sign recommending mountaineering equipment. It would only be another 8 km I told myself, 1.5, maybe 2 hours with a break along the way, what I wasn’t prepared for was the crazy steepness of the trail, it almost felt vertical at times, going on for a long time, but since I’m doing things I actually want to do such as camping, swimming in rivers, and taking the longer routes, I’ve become so very happy. When I got to the peaks, the views, oh the views. The trail just had to go over the peaks, but those views, not like from within a mountain range at the Pyrenees, or up onto higher peaks after the Cruz de Ferro, but at eye level with the other peaks around, and the knowledge that I just climbed up here in less than two hours. My sweat-soaked shirt can bear witness. It was probably the hardest two hours on the Camino for me, ignoring some of the maximum pain days, but I loved every second of it. As the trail bent away from the valley below into chestnut tree plantations the rain began to pour for the last 10 minutes of my walk, I grinned all the way. At the albergue, no one seemed to be there, so after some shouting I knocked on a random door and found the only other pilgrim here, Gazelle from Toronto, in the 10 bed dorm. She told me about the bell I had to ring outside, so I did, and shortly after a short, friendly woman came to a balcony on the building next door. “Hola, would you like something to drink?” I informed her that I wanted to sleep and eat here, and that a beer would indeed be most excellent. She came over and we did the sign in procedure. I filled in the spot I left for my Cruz de Ferro camping adventure which didn’t provide me with a stamp, and filled it in handwriting, with the date for April which my hospitalera found most amusing. The albergue in Astorga had their stamp set on April and I just mindlessly copied it. I had a lot of great laughs talking with that lady in Spanish, it made a great day even better. Gazelle and I then shared some pilgrimage experiences before I showered and rested until supper. Now, supper wasn’t your regular pilgrim meal, we got a feast of soup, pasta and salad all homemade and homegrown except for the noodles, even the delicious wine was homemade and came from grapes grown in the garden. We had some cake for dessert a piece of each, chocolate, and chestnut. Everything was fantastic! Anna, the hospitalera then got out her bracelet kit and began making some trinkets she likes to sell on the side. Gazelle and I joined in to help, and we had a really fun time together, even with my broken, and Gazelle’s non-existent Spanish skills. After the hard work, Anna offered us liqueurs, homemade of course, and while the coffee and orange ones were great, the chestnut liqueur was something else and brought home first place by a mile. I thanked Anna and gave her a generous tip she put into a small box, “our vacation money” she said. There was one more thing I had to do, and that was playing with the three kittens outside. I began warming up to the family by petting the dad cat for a while before grabbing some long-stemmed flowers to play with the excited kittens. What a day, what an excellent day.

June 10:My wonderful sleep in the quiet room on what felt like a new mattress was rudely interrupted by a sickly sounding rooster at 6: 45 am. Breakfast, which I usually take on the road, would not be served by Anna until 7:30, but I had to stick around to have some of her homegrown jam and to say goodbye, pear jam it was that day. Anna gives an amazing goodbye hug! And there it was again, the rearward for climbing a mountain on foot, a steep, ankle breaking, knee smashing descent, all just to climb the next mountain later that day, couldn’t they just build me a sky bridge over?On my way back in the valley to Vega de Valcare I saw, once again, a bag full of garbage. Mostly food packaging, some even unopened; I walked past it like probably dozens of pilgrims before me. A 100 metres or so later I scolded myself for acting like a hypocrite, I had to go back, pick it up, and throw it into the garbage just a few minutes later at a gas station. So simple, and now I can live with myself for the rest of the day.Emily the American waiting at a cafe for her friends who turned out to be Jun and the South Korean who was talking to me when he was drunk in Castrojeriz where people were playing guitar and everyone sang.I failed to water up at what I thought was the before last fountain prior to the mountain climb, but it was the last and so I was quite thirsty for the first bit of the inclineWild strawberriesLove the views, but 3 mountains in a week is starting to be a bit much.For the last two kilometres of the climb to O’Cebreiro I threw on the turbo and pulled out a pack of gummibears, handing out little sugar boosts to all the pilgrims I passed as extra fuel to the summit. Never made this many friends that quickly! O’Cebreiro Itself was a bit of a culture shock with a lot of non-pilgrim tourists. It’s a small village and pilgrims are part of the attraction as I learned when I walked around with a Baguette, a salad, and a microwaveable meal from the grocery store. Tourists pointed at me and began to talk about my meal and what we can make and eat, an odd feeling. I saw a few friends coming in to town and checking into the albergue, among them was Alexandro, and we hadn’t forgotten about our soccer watching plans. There was one bar with a tv in town, and we agreed to meet there to watch the first half before the albergue closed. On the way back the sky was on fire from the sunset, a great way to end the day.

June 11:My original plans of going to Samos, a monastery on the alternate route which is very much worth visiting have been changed when I saw a poster about this art studio place “La casa del alchemiste” where one can stay for a donation. The only poster I ever saw of the place, and that’s all I knew when I made the decision, as well as a few other details such as that it is a little off the non-Samos Camino route and after which village I should start looking for it. This could turn out to be a great decision or a horrible mistake. It was a little over 30 km for that day which was not a big problem anymore these days, as my body has adjusted to the daily marching well.  The morning started with a great sunrise as I walked out of O’Cebreiro, and as used to be tradition, Aureli would be sitting there once again for our morning coffee on the last high altitude spot of the Camino. Francesco the German I met late at Cruz de Ferro joined us, he told me about the place I booked in Porto before my flight back. The Italian Alexandro joined as well and after we talked, he was also considering to go to the art studio instead of Samos though he wasn’t too sure yet. I continued my walk in solitude, and as Harpe Kerkeling, a German comedian stated in his book I’m off then, that at some point everyone starts to cry on the trail, it just gets to one sooner or later, it would be my turn. All these experiences and this childlike trust that everything will always work out got to me. Walking through the hills I imagined myself in third person, walking along the trail with nothing but joy in my heart and this ease of life, how simple things could be if we didn’t overcomplicate everything. I was overwhelmed. I was never looking for transformation or some major life changing moment on the Camino, I’m happy with who and where I am, but I was hoping to rediscover faith, faith in myself, God, and in the world around me. I used to have trust that when I did what I wanted to do, no matter how reckless it may seem, things will be ok. Over time I lost that childlike faith, but I am getting it back.

In Triacastella, the next town just a bit over 20 km after O’Cebreiro, all the stores were closed as so often common during siesta I thought. Since I wasn’t sure if or how much I’d get fed at the alchemists art resort I wanted to grocery up and decided to stick around town until 2 pm, which is when siesta usually ends for the grocery stores here. I found a swimming spot where I cooled down by splashing around in the creek, and followed it up with a nap in the grass, a pilgrim’s life. On my way back to the grocery store I almost took the wrong left turn which would have lead me to the store on a slightly longer route, but caught my mistake and upon turning to the right street who should sit there by a beer but Victor! He jumped up from his chair, we both had our hands thrown into the air, running at each other, for a moment the slow motion effect kicked in until we got to celebrate our bromance reunion with an ever so manly hug. I felt that I had to go but I wouldn’t be able to until we properly caught up and had a beer together. At that moment as well people – either of us knew were strolling by and we kept greeting them, it was a show of Camino friendships. Aureli also walked by and decided to join us as well as a German man Victor knew and we had a great time laughing and reminiscing. Eventually, I told them that I had to go on to the store and then the Alchemists place, I was reminded that it was Sunday, when stores are closed in Spain, so no extra food for me, and Victor argued that I should stick around in town since he already checked in. Oh this was exactly what I needed, a test of willpower, I knew that I wanted to go to that art place, that something was calling me there and here was once again the pull to do something that would be easier and for others, but not myself. There was no way I’d give in. After 20 more minutes of talking, much of it about me staying I took my leave and went off into the forest towards “La casa del Alchemiste”.

Finding the place was a feat on its own, I used offline google maps to guide me to the place off of the Camino until I stood in front of small stone house. A little uneasy as to what to expect, I approached. A lady shot out from the garden to the left “Hola” and welcomed me, she was not the hospitalera, but an Italian pilgrim, Alina, who stayed an extra day due to an injury, but the owner would be home soon, until then, enjoy yourself. I look around and at once realized that I must have gone through a magical door to what I can only describe as a Narnia like magical world, oh I made the right call! In the centre of my view, there on a couch under a stone roof with a fireplace, a massive pizza oven like structure and plenty of art and seating stomps sat Alexandro, he also did make the right call. The whole house was an eccentric, and rustic mix between stone and wood. Upstairs had doors to the outside with grapevines greeting, the kitchen had an old gas stove and a massive stone table, the whole place came out with less than a handful of outlets and was covered in art, an alchemists art. Now, I thought the “alchemiste” part was just a fancy word, but here I was at the house of an actual alchemist, someone who alters the attributes of minerals by using various techniques. Seeing the workshop with hundreds of jars containing different rock and mineral dusts for art projects was a something I will probably never see anywhere else. The place then was overrun by Italians, while there is only space for 6 pilgrims, they had spare mattresses to accommodate the other 3, which brought the tally to myself, one French girl, Lucy, one of those pilgrims I kept running into almost daily for about 2 weeks now and who was apparently invited by Alexandro, and 7 Italians. When those kind of numbers happen it becomes difficult to integrate oneself, especially with Italians on the Camino who often tend to not like speaking English. I used the day to explore the house in detail, see what grew in the garden, and talked to the Norwegian volunteer helper and self proclaimed professional hugger, Oda. A lot of things happened, a lot of conversations took place, nice rituals were conducted, including saying personal thank you messages before dinner, and we played some music to sum it all up in a very concise manner.

June 12:

It was a slow morning with a large breakfast buffet of whatever was left in the house since it was the day before grocery day. Almost everyone hung around for a while, but when it was time to eat lunch, Lucy, Alina, and myself were the only pilgrims left. Lunch was quite a feast as well with an internationally influenced dish containing beans, oats, egg, onions, garlic, and spices fried up into two large cakes, one of which was heart shaped! The cakes were served with freshly picked salad and hummus. After lunch I eventually decided to stay an additional night in order to experience the place in a calmer state and to have more time to take in the art and study some of the minerals. I also got to have some more great talks with my hosts, discover some important things about myself, and take some rest. This spot turned out to become a significant stop on my Camino journey and I got so very close to not coming here.

June 13:

Since O’Cebreiro the directional markers on the trail have evolved to now show the distance to Santiago in soul crushing metres, so every couple of minutes you are reminded that you are barely making any progress. It’s a horrible, discouraging concept that really focuses on the little progress of a few minutes, rather like than the big one of hours or days. I had 10 kilometres into Sarria today, 10 km I really cherished because I knew crowds would join us from Sarria, the last city of a decent size before the 100 km marker, and therefore the closest place to Santiago to start from for anyone who wanted a Compostella, a certificate that recognizes the pilgrimage. I was still surprised by the number of people added however, crowds upon crowds, school classes chanting and shouting, large groups of elderly people blocking the trail, I was overwhelmed. It was incredibly difficult to deal with the influx emotionally, so I was happy when it came to my coffee break at a cafe just a few steps off the Camino. And who would be there but my coffee buddy Aureli! She sat with her back to me as I approached and got up to make an order in the cafe as I was within reach and tapped her on the shoulder. In my exhaustion from running past hordes of strangers and this feeling of loneliness in a crowd I fell into her arms, so happy to see a familiar face. “Do you have a GPS tracker on me?” she asked jokingly, and we laughed. As I looked around the table, I also recognized Simone, a guy from Italy whom I made friends with during my sprint up to O’Cebreiro, handing out gummibears to everyone. He is a chef, and an interesting personality to have conversations with. His appearance is also quite eccentric with tattoos spread over his body, including his entire face. I was among friends and able to celebrate my usual morning coffee ritual with Aureli, all was great. Inside there was Kathleen, an American girl I kept seeing since Granon but who had taken a bus or two more recently, so I didn’t think I’d see her again. We exchanged some words as I ordered my food. After some chatting with the group, the others began to leave, and I was eventually alone at the table, but a Serbian immigrant to Sweden from another table opened a conversation with me. That chat felt heavy and tiring, so I did begin to head out soon after. In one of the crowds I found Marina, the French woman from a few days ago, she wasn’t feeling too well, so I left her to it since she seemed to need alone time until we met again later that day, when she was much better.

With all the new people out numbering the pilgrims from before Sarnia by a large margin, the people I kept seeing for days or weeks have now become family within the blink of an eye. 

Arriving in Portomarin as the sun beat down, I planned for a swim, but on the way to the swimming spot, as we crossed the large and long bridge into Portomarin, Victor jump scared me from behind as he caught up. Just 20 minutes earlier he walked past a by donation buffet I enjoyed and stared straight at me with no reaction. This time though we made plans for meeting up for drinks and dinner. First however, I had to swim, and my swimming buddy Marina offered to join as Victor declined, stating he would go later. Sure, the town is built quite far above the water and no pilgrim in their right mind would walk the stairs of Portomarin back down and up again unless absolutely necessary. The water was surprisingly warm, and refreshing as expected! Pilgrims shouted barely audible encouragements from the high up bridge, a great break on a day that just began to warm up.

Having found a bed, I followed Victors call to a bar, and there were Victor, Simone, Sophie, Jun, and the South Korean I met drunk the first time, as well as Mike, a US PhD student. Throughout the evening I hopped between bars and places for supper, enjoying various meals with new and old friends, lots of laughter and stories shared, a fantastic night that let me forget about the social anxiety I felt earlier. I also passed the 100 km marker today, getting closer!

Update 4 – May 30 – June 6, 2023:

May 30:
The afternoon of May 30th had me go for a walk and sit on a bench when I encountered Frank, a German unicyclist who is doing the camino partially on his unicycle and partially walking. We had a short chat before he continued on for the day and I went back to bed to elevate my leg. Eventually the Eastern European lady occupying the bed above me in the bunk stormed in and began yelling at me. Initially, she took my things off the top bunk and put them on the bottom because she doesn’t sleep on bottom bunks since the air on them doesn’t live up to her standards. Ignoring that I only took the top to leave the bottom for a potentially older than me person following, that argument seemed quite weak since we all happen to like air. Anyway, this time she was outraged by the fact that I spent too much time in my bed and that I had to leave now that she could use the on-suite bathroom. Sure, no problem, the only thing I’m wondering about now is where she had been staying on the Camino so far, because with that kind of demand you’d either have to stay in hotels or evacuate up to 100 bed dorms every time you need to go to the bathroom. I went outside again to sit on the bench as Janni and her husband came across. She is the German lady I talked to the night before and they invited me to dinner. I wasn’t very hungry anymore, but happy to join them for a snack and some conversation. Due to my foot situation I’m not wearing shoes most of the time for now which did not fly with the restaurant, but the scary German lady would not have it and made sure I’d be welcome with them at the restaurant before I could even say anything. We talked mostly about the fun music night before and the drunk American couple who constantly shouted over the music, dampening the experience for the rest of us, but also the kind and very drunk Korean kid who came over as we talked that night and kept retelling how crazy that night is, exclaiming “Jesus Christ” many times. At the end, one of the guitarists had come over to me as I was getting my laundry outside, stood really close to me and began playing songs I didn’t know, very awkward. Reminiscing in those thoughts and filling our bellies we laughed until it was time to go our separate ways for the night.

May 31:
From Fromista to Carrion de los Condes, I chose the slightly longer river route and was pleasantly surprised by the amount of birds that would sing around me all morning, this extra kilometre is certainly worth not walking along the road! A wall in a village I passed was decorated with a large Yellow Spotted Salamander, feels a bit like home! A little further, I found a nice cafe to sit at and was extremely excited to find out that they served smoothies. Another mound of coins lighter I moved on and noticed something; most pilgrims don’t generally display the country they are from, only occasionally one can see a US flag on a bicycle, or a Japanese patch on a backpack, but they are few and far between. However, there is a group of people with strong pride for their flag, Brazilians. Every one of them appears to wear either a Jersey, scarf, or flag, some even a combination. Sometimes they even wear Brazil socks or sandals. It can become difficult for me to walk past them and fight the urge to collapse next to them, and scream out in pain while holding my leg (yes, a soccer reference). Along the trail I encountered some writing that suggested “Be the turtle.” Now, that could be interpreted in many different ways I thought, my mind going to the Ninja Turtles, should I keep my two stick method like two Katanas or switch to one larger, Bo stick instead? Maybe it just means that I should be less like Splinter the rat and more like any of the turtles, more action, less thinking and talking? Or, and this may be a stretch, is the idea to simply walk slower and still get to Santiago, potentially even faster than the sprinter like in the turtle and rabbit story? The last one really doesn’t appear to work since my rabbit pace friends are consistently 1.5 to 2 days ahead of me despite their own injuries now. Something to think about. Arriving in Carrion de los Condes, Janni was already sitting there at a bench, I decided to join her after checking into the monastery albergue. After our chat I went to get some miracle cure paste for my shin, a cooling gel that would improve the healing of my shin incredibly, or maybe it was just the timing, either way, days with significantly less pain ahead! During the following visit to the grocery store for the staples; juice, chocolate and gummy bears, I also encountered a woman with an Algonquin Park hat who happened to be from Guelph, the closest to Sarnia yet. Back at the monastery I took a nap and would awake an hour later to the nuns singing. It was the community songs thing they do every evening as I learned earlier. Dozens of pilgrims were sitting in a room and on the stairs, singing songs together, one of those camino moments, just like camp for adults. After, I wanted to go for a walk and to get pizza, skipping mass for once since I hadn’t gotten much out of it before. Leaving the monastery, I saw a woman from the UK who mentioned something that resonated with me during a quick sharing session to introduce ourselves at the albergue sitting on a bench, so I approached her about it. We had a good talk mostly about children and she decided to join me for pizza where we met many random faces we knew. It’s funny on the camino, there are 3 or 4 people I keep running into and the only exchange we had is smiles and waving, it’s like a promise to chat and there is an understanding that we’d probably get along, there were two of them as well as Jimmy and Stan from the kids, but me and the nameless woman were in a conversation we wanted to continue so we didn’t really get a chance to engage with the others in conversation as well. With a full pizza in my stomach, it was eventually bed time.

June 1:
Lights on at 6 and everyone up, it’s the pilgrim way in most religious accommodations. I almost fell off my top bunk since it didn’t have any railings and it was almost as high as I’m tall (6 feet). Luckily, I had a hunch and put some things on each side of me, as I heard one of them fall in the middle of the night, I woke up quickly and noticed that I wasn’t far off the edge. There is no way these tall railingless bunk beds would fly anywhere else in the western world. My morning had two good deeds included, which consisted of giving the ladies extra toilet paper from the mens’ stalls, it isn’t Covid after all and redirecting a pilgrim at 6.30. As I made my way out of town, I noticed that the church doors were open and decided that it probably won’t hurt to fit a short visit into my wide open schedule. The nuns praying at the front while I was sitting in the back of the ancient church catapulted me back a thousand years for a moment.
Once more I shared my morning coffee on route with Aureli, my early starts and her fast pace quite often gets us aligned at the first opportunity for coffee. From her I learned about how amazing the mass with the Augustine nuns was, first one I heard of that I skipped of course, but the pizza and conversation I had instead were great!
The issue that comes with a 17km stretch of nothing but a cafe is that it’s happening the day one really needs a bathroom; so, while uncomfortable, I probably walked that stretch faster than usual. Eventually i made the 23km to Ledigos, got a beer and then just laid down in a park for a nap, what a fantastic nap that would become, my entry into the second part of my Camino. The physical challenge is subsiding and the mental gaining exposure throughout my day. It started with my anger at myself for reserving and having no faith, not giving the Camino a chance to provide, well, little did I know that it would hit me fast and hard. My thought was that I’d just begin camping and have faith to find good spots to do that, but in a torrential downpour my bivy doesn’t keep much water out and it wouldn’t be a peaceful night at all. Naively I dreamed of starry skies and wonderful picnic areas for stargazing while drifting off, I certainly didn’t order the massive thunderstorm I was heading into. I left the camino for a potentially more picturesque path I scouted myself out via satellite imagery the day before. And it went quite well until it didn’t. There is a feeling of madness that resonates with one when walking over a hill among fields of short wheat toward thundering clouds throwing impressive lightning in a one minute rhythm. That feeling of madness wears off when the trail, a well developed farm road suddenly ends and one can either wade through a wheat field or over a freshly tilled ankle breaker. I hopped between the two and felt the itch from the wheat and the pain on ankle and shin, what I didn’t “feel” however was that creek that now separated me from the road that could lead me back to the camino. I made it across and made my way, well, not mine anymore, the regular way to the next village, into the storm. As I got to finally refill my water at the fountain in said village, the rain set in to make sure I’m getting enough. As the thundery clouds rolled in I took shelter under a cover behind the church. I was looking out at a small playground surrounded by crocheted flags hanging from ropes that spread between trees. A framed letter informs me that they were partially made by locals, and partially donated from pilgrims across the world. A large quilt donated by an American who received it from her grandmother hung beside me in the shelter. I’m past the half way point now at 16 out of 32 days down. I’m on schedule but with no time to play, and have to consider the early push days. First a nap on the bench though.
About an hour later I got up, the lightning didn’t come down from above me anymore and I decided to push on, I don’t know why, I could probably have found a bed in Moratinos, the town I was in, but my gut said no and my gut is making the decisions these days. After going the 2 or 3km to the next village I could have almost gutted myself… the Camino provides… sure didn’t seem like it when I was told that there were no more beds in the only albergue at the next village. Close to 8km to Sahagun, my leg hurts and my stomach rumbles. “Do you have a supper” I asked in Spanish, and was told that it would only be for those who stayed there, but he could make me a sandwich later at about 7.30pm, that was over an hour away! I was looking at the grocery store single packed baked goods, but that wasn’t going to happen, I was done. I did see a restaurant in the village as well and would at least give myself a good meal before sleeping on a bench under a cover or marching on to Sahagun on aching legs. The restaurant was beautifully decorated with two dogs excitedly barking as I came in. Only a table with the owner’s family was occupied. It was clear that there was nothing but Spanish spoken in that establishment and I began to gracefully swing my language skills which suddenly improved significantly. The owner had no issue to make whatever I needed, even before 7pm! Unheard of! It didn’t take long until my beautifully decorated thick pork filets, and thinly sliced, fried potatoes with a mixed salad straight from a five star chefs cookbook came. I took my time eating to give the phone time to charge, but also had to balance time if I wanted to make it to Sahagun comfortably before all the albergues closed. There was still one more thing that had to happen however, I was not going to do that march through downpour and lightning sober. I left it to the chef and he hit the mark with a fantastic local chocolate liqueur, alcohol loosened the tongue and I got talking with the locals in my now flawless Spanish. As he learned that I was from Canada, the owner and father of most of the people around told me of the three students from Quebec he hosted and showed me a dream catcher hanging from a beam in the restaurant, they brought it for him as a souvenir about 35 years ago if I remember correctly. As I put on my coat, bag, and was about to throw on my poncho he told me he’d drive me to Sahagun and that there was no way he’d let me walk. Not able to refuse the worried man and a little too fond of a painless tomorrow and better chances for a bed, I thanked and accepted. I will have to send him a postcard from Canada he demanded. Deal! As I walked in the building of the municipal albergue, I was surprised to see that it was half albergue, half stage with seating. I thought I had only in the car for 7km, but when entering the old church building, a scene you’d expect in Morocco and Arabic music welcomed me. As I turned my head to the right I saw seven women performing a bellydance rehearsal. I enquired at a desk in the centre straight ahead for a bed and was happy to learn that there were quite a few left. After a shower I went back downstairs (pilgrim amenities are on an upper floor that was clearly installed in more recent years) to watch the various dances which included props like scarfs or canes. The camino provides, but you have to have faith, if you don’t give it a chance it won’t be able to reveal its magic.

June 2:
I began walking out of Sahagun and quite early saw the kids walking in the distance. Varying walking speeds are often still less than 1 km/h difference and so it took me about 90 minutes before I was able to catch up to them. Let’s talk a moment about arrows though. The yellow arrows are drawn on walls, streets, signs, and anywhere else to show the way to Santiago and are incredibly helpful. However, when there is an intersection with two possible paths to go on, the arrows often try to push you towards one way more than the other, usually they favour the longer route, so it happens that a pilgrim walks with arrows pointing the opposite direction for a bit, instead of only having arrows pointing the two possible ways at the intersection, very confusing and frustrating at times. Even more infuriating is when albergues or cafes start painting yellow arrows on walls and streets to guide pilgrims to their off the camino establishments. I have found myself more often than once looking at two conflicting arrows, trying to make sense of it. Initially, as I was about to pass the kids, I got the usual buen camino greeting until they realized who was just about to overtake them. Lots of happiness was the result and I opted to stay with them for the day. At our fist stop, a cafe like all the other ones on the trail, there was a little surprise, in addition to the usual croissants and grocery store baked muffins and cakes, there was a fresh, uncut apple cake on the counter. I looked at it, then I looked at him, “is this for sale?” It was! He cut me a large piece and it was fantastic. A thin light base with vanilla pudding and apples. In Reliegos, the final stop of the day at about 30km I was even able to get a bed in the same room as them, so we had it to ourselves. The kids include: the a little older Soo (early 30s) from Vancouver, originally South Korea, whom I already met in Estrella when I wasn’t entirely there mentally due to pain and exhaustion. She mentioned the moment we met when Victor and Will mentioned me as their friend who spoke Spanish just as I walked into the room, I also met her and Sophie again at the wine fountain, but was pushing on then to get a head start and to get the walking over with faster. The others include the South Koreans Stan, Jun, and Jimmy, and the American Sophie who studies in London, UK, as does Jimmy. The latter four are in their 20s, or so I thought. Over dinner we conversed about age and learned that Jimmy was still a teenager at 19 years of age, born in 2003. Much of the evening was spent looking at events of birth years, especially Jimmy’s to get some perspective. As things wound down I tended to my feet in our room and excitedly shared that my massive blister grew new skin underneath and that I wouldn’t need the pads I kept putting on anymore. Not believing the monstrous size of my blister, the kids insisted to see it and came to the conclusion that it was the biggest blister they had ever seen, and that it looked like the African continent. Since there was no record of a Guinness World Record for largest blister, we considered entering but decided against it. Jimmy had the pleasure of living through a dream revolving about my blister that night, only that it was much much larger in his dream, some disturbing details too gruesome to share here got us a bit sick to the stomach as he shared his story, overall however, he is the nicest guy, every time he sees me after some time he cheers and welcomes me in the very polite South Korean way. Jun and Stan as well, just with a little more constraint since we hadn’t built the same relationship around knowledge sharing and common interests.

June 3:
I kind of slept in this morning until about 6.45. The kids were already almost packed up and didn’t want to wake me since I told them I’d be ready to walk within 15 minutes of waking up. I didn’t promise too much and got a slower morning myself as everyone slowly got into the mood for the 25km walk of the day to the city of Leon. We began walking and took our regular coffee break at the first cafe we came across in the next village. Prices are rarely posted in cafes, but usually stay within a pretty narrow range, at this cafe however I was hit by a quite steep price for my sandwich and a coffee. I was a bit tired of sweet baked goods every morning and opted for something more filling, and it was absolutely delicious but the price of more than a foot long subway sandwich was not really justifiable. Oh well, on we went with tired bones and minds. I saw the Italian Emily with whom I had a short conversation two days earlier on the 17km stretch. She was standing in a small make-shift store/cafe hybrid that had vending machines, jeweller, camino de Santiago souvenirs, and even some useful items a pilgrim might need. Emily was there with an other group drinking mate tea an Argentinian pilgrim shared and I had to stop in for some of that, the kids approved. Moving on we crossed a massive Roman bridge over a very inviting looking river. Since the day began to get quite hot we opted to try and push a little more towards Leon though before it got too hot. After the bridge we were taken through a very North American looking small town. There was a very wide, straight road with stores on each side for a while. The amount of cars compared to any other settlement in Spain must have been at least ten times higher, it felt like a culture shock. Unlike other towns that were likely formed before major roads for cars were developed, this one was clearly built around this highway. We flew into a grocery store to get a snack and ended up with extremely affordable strawberries, the juiciest and most flavourful I may have ever had, what a treat! While they kept our mood up for a bit, our tired bodies and minds soon suffered under the heat during the shadeless walk. We put on some music for a bit and stopped at a shelter with a little fountain that emptied into a kind of trough. I put my head into the running water and felt so refreshed, not quite swimming in the river, but as close as it gets. In the next village we stopped at a cafe to get some drinks and use the washrooms. Soo asked for the price of a coke and as she heard it was almost 3 euros, she said no, got a little pastry instead and went to the washroom. After Sophie ordered a coke, I asked for a coffee and went to the bathroom myself, as I came out, paid, grabbed my coffee, and headed to our table outside I saw Soo clearly upset talking to the guys in Korean. I asked what happened and Soo explained that the owner poured her a coke, she explained that she didn’t ordered it and the owner said things in Spanish that she thought were insulting since the barman and his friends appeared to laugh at her. At that moment she put down a euro for her pastry and went outside to the table, visibly shaking. She took pictures of the cafe as she did of everywhere she stopped at, the owner stormed outside thinking it was to give him bad reviews and Soo stormed off before things escalated. The rest of us emptied our cups and glasses and followed suite. As I initially wrote this bit while walking, I accidentally deleted my entire update for the week. Luckily, the June 1st part was saved at least, but I got to spend quite some time recalling and rewriting the other days. It wasn’t far to Leon, I got a spot at a Benedictine monastery albergue with apparently well over a hundred beds and the kids went on to their Air BnB. I stayed in contact with Nick who happened to be in Leon today as well, he was awaiting me in front of the albergue and we celebrated our reunion with beer, tapas, and ice cream. The weather went from hot and sunny to thunderstorm and cold quite quickly as it does here while we were roaming through town. He invited me to a goodbye gathering for another pilgrim, but I needed a break from socializing and went to the Gaudi museum. He initially joined as well before heading to the gathering. I went to rest after the museum. I had a hunch about what I was in for tonight, surrounded by 7 old men in my bunk. No, it’s not just the snoring, but also the ignorance they usually bring with them, from loudly stomping to multiple bathroom breaks, and illuminating the room with their phone on maximum brightness to looking around at others with a headlamp that rivals the sun. Some even still have an audible alarm set for early morning starts, but that’s more often young people. Did you know, that snorers become louder when there are rivalling noises that threaten their superiority? One snorer rarely is an issue, but when there are two or more, they begin competing, gradually increasing in volume until one is the indisputable winner and the other returns to its cave, continuing more quietly again. This subconscious phenomenon can be experienced every few minutes in the right environment. Even experiment external, non-snoring noises can become a threatening act to a snorer, and so the volume in the room tends to rise briefly after a cough attack or a stomping toilet tourist. Tonight there are also the loud crowds of partiers on their way home passing our street level window with loud chatter, but closing that isn’t really an option with that many bodies in a small space, and the sleep farter over in bed 22.

June 4:
Rest day in Leon! I made my way over to the kids’ Air BnB apartment to say goodbye to Soo and Jimmy who aren’t taking a rest day, and to settle in since I’d be staying there for the day to enjoy some rest. The 5 minute walk over at 7.30am led me through alleys of garbage and broken glass while clean up crews went through the downtown core with hoses, flushing everything into a few level areas. Here and there a bar was still open, drunkards were yelling, a girlfriend tried to stop a fight, the aftermath of a party night. A very slow morning was followed by a mission to get a Donair, a kind of Shawarma, for lunch which wouldn’t be difficult to do I thought since there are quite a few donair places in Leon. It turned out that they almost all opened at 7 or 7.30pm only and would then stay open until 5 or 8am in the morning, it’s Sunday! It’s difficult to understand how all of them will get more business at 3am on a Monday, than they would at noon on a Sunday… mind bending! I eventually found a place with mixed reviews and went there. A donair is judged on many criteria, but the most important component is the sauce, usually garlicky and, ideally for me, a little lighter and refreshing; the donair I was served had ketchup on it. I didn’t notice until I unwrapped it in the apartment but I have rarely been that disappointed in my life. Supper was Korean made tonight and absolutely delicious and a welcome change! I realized that I never actually asked Stan and Jin about their ages and was very surprised to hear 27 and 28 respectively, they really looked much younger and they incredible politeness makes it hard to guess an age. As Stan, who already cooked, began to do the dishes I introduced him to western culture by sternly letting him know that there is no way he is going to do the dishes, so he put down the dish he was cleaning and backed up. As I was taking over that task, he began to make his bed on the floor, a debate began over who would sleep in the couch, and who on the floor; I lost and ended up having to sleep on the couch. It can be quite challenging to be faced with the Korean mannerisms, trying to work towards a specific outcome while using a very different model of communication, but it is also a strong lesson and very heartwarming at times.

June 5:
Leaving this morning was a bit confusing. Initially Sophie, Jun, and I were leaving together, but in the end the kids entirely split up. Stan took the bus to the 55km away Astorga, Sophie stayed another day in Leon due to a cold, and Jun decided to leave later than I liked… they grow up so fast. On my way out I stopped at a grocery store to get my lunch for much cheaper than a cafe, but was just a bit disappointed when shortly after, there was one of my beloved German brand stores on the way, oh well, only so much food a pilgrim can carry. Another thing that happened while still walking in the city was an old lady walking towards me, saying buen camino and lifting her hand for a high five. There is nothing else that gets to me like a local’s “you got this” gesture, it always makes my day. After a few kilometres it was decision time, the trail would either continue along the highway, or one could add another 2.5km for a more scenic route. Well, I don’t have to be anywhere, so scenic it is. Initially it lead through a southern African looking landscape, a chaparral with terra cotta coloured dirt and it was fantastic, eventually however, the scenic route spit me out onto smaller roads which still allowed for cars to go 100km/h. Walking on the road or the narrow shoulder wasn’t even the worst part though, there was no shade, which became a particular problem at a 10km stretch with no settlement, just the road and farms. I’d spy a tree in the distance and when I’d reach it 30 or more minutes later I found it surrounded by massive rose and raspberry bushes, no shade for you, peregrino. The heat really began to become a problem despite my third layer of 50 strength sunscreen for the day. I took a break in the sun to rest my feet for a moment which had carried me with no break for almost 5 hours at the time. Eventually, near the next village, there were two benches and some immature trees behind them, the ditch next to the benches however had a bit of shade provided by a willow, so i took a rest in the ditch and made myself a ham and tomato sandwich. Walking on the road, I spotted a lizard in the stoney ditch, it tried to escape from sight but chose a hole rather than a tunnel, focused on its tail I had the phone ready and stood there as still as I could in the beating sun until the lizard showed itself after a few minutes, great picture achieved! As for road food, there are many trees and shrubs that have the potential to feed pilgrims on the camino, most prominently elderberries and raspberries, but the first ones ready are the mulberries and cherries! Oh there are few things better than fruits and berries straight from the source. The whole walk today was quite empty after leaving Leon and taking the scenic route, I take it an extra 2.5km are enough to divert most to the noisier highway route. After about 35km to Hospital de Orbigo I was greeted by flags hanging from houses left and right down a cobblestone street until the view opens up to a massive bridge. The solid stone, Roman bridge spans over a river and an expansive field which happened to have decorated bleachers and a whole jousting tournament set up with medieval style tents in the distance. I just missed a medieval fair and jousting tournament. The tournament is held to remember the knight Don Suero de Quinones, who, together with 9 of his men, in a staged event approved by the king was attempting to break 300 lances. Staged as in, not a real war, but certainly real battles in a tournament. It was Don Suero’s way to prove his love to Lady Leonor de Tovar. I couldn’t find any mention about if she was impressed by the event, or turned off by the fact that Don Suero and his 9 men were only able to defeat 166 men before being too injured to continue with the other 534 scheduled contenders. Either way, I was a day too late to see the festivities but found a beautiful antique merry go round to admire instead. The albergue I found was parish owned and built by German parish members. Not the first one the Germans built or funded I might add. The inner courtyard was beautifully decorated with stone patterns on the floor, large murals and lots of greenery, all in a Christian theme. The backyard has many lounging opportunities, a bird bath with a giant cross on which a metal Jesus was crucified and a small, unfortunately empty, foot bath area. One of the small bedrooms that lead directly into the garden is only occupied by myself and an Italian couple tonight, good chances for a nice sleep. Supper came from the grocery store tonight, and with a great conversation about trees and the natural environment with a Swiss garden designer and horticulturist.

June 6:
Setting my mind up for another day’s walk in solitude I left the albergue in the morning. It was a nice walk through beautiful scenery, but I was ready for any of my friends. About an hour into the walk I stopped at a sort of shrine at a hilltop to put on some sunscreen and take a drink. In the distance I saw someone at high pace coming towards me, “looks like Aureli’s gait” I thought to myself, and in fact, it was Aureli. We were both happy to see each other again since we hadn’t had our morning coffee for a few days and thought we had lost each other, but there she was! We walked the rest of the day together and chatted mostly about teaching, since she is (or was) a Montessori teacher who taught primarily in Paris and on the island of La Reunion, there are lots of stories in those places. After a while of shadeless walking we came to an oasis, a man put up a full on buffet of fruit, cheese, eggs, bread, yoghurt, cereal, spreads, condiments, and beverages. He had some semi sheltered mattresses and hammocks for those who needed rest and all the food was free, or by donation. If you used a glass or plate, you weren’t allowed to clean either, that was his job! I filled up with watermelon, nectarine, a muffin, and fresh pressed lemonade, what an unexpected treat, and what kindness! In Astorga, I decided to cut the day short after 17km and checked in at the municipal albergue, and so did Aureli and Alexandro, another French guy and former “Pub Crawlers” group member. We had run into each other a few times now and shared conversations on and off. While having a beer on a patio Sophie from the kids walked by, she was apparently doing quite a bit better after looking pretty hit by the cold two days ago. She decided to take the bus and have another light day in Astorga, Jun should be around town somewhere as well I reckon, so not everyone is gone after all. The early afternoon I took a solitary stroll through Astorga, looking at the cathedral, a Gaudi building, several parks, and at some of the pastries and chocolates here. The town has a chocolate factory and the hundreds of stores make sure you know about it. It is of little surprise then that I had the absolute best chocolate ice cream of my life here. I didn’t see another ice cream place, so I opted for the quite expensive one (still cheaper than Canadian gelato though) and was blown away, now this is a great (half) rest day. The day continued with some Astorga made chocolate, and, something I had never done before, going to a professional barber who works by walk-in only in a very traditional way to get my facial hair trimmed. First time I had a razor blade held to my throat, but it was a great experience for only 9 Euros. The evening finished off with watching a tennis game while sipping some beer at a bar. Fun fact about ordering drinks: for your up to 3 Euro pint you always get a free tapas dish as well which changes depending on time and place. For example, with my lunch beer today I got a dish with bacon wrapped sausage and potatoes, while my evening beer came with a bowl of olives. Also, no tips expected on top of that. Only 250km to go!

Update 3 – May 24 – 29, 2023:

May 24:Before setting off with my new Camino Group on my 8th day there was the insurmountable hurdle of getting up. I had a good sleep but was still very tired. I would have stayed in bed if I didn’t plan to meet up with Chantal, Victor, and Nick, or if the group of South Koreans hadn’t made soooo much noise. Everything hurt and the morning walk was brutal, what was more, there was no cafe open until I made it to my goal for the day. 22km walking with nothing but Oreos covered in white chocolate which I bought the day before. At the 15km mark we got to Santo Domingo de la Calzeda where a rooster is held in the Cathedral. There is a story around it where a child was sentenced for a crime and the ruler passing the sentence said something like this child is as guilty as this chicken on his plate was dead. At that moment the chicken got up and flew away. If the rooster crows when one walks in it is a sign of good luck, needles to say there was dead silence upon my entry. We explored the Cathedral and meant to go on, but my feet were killing me so I decided to see if the shoe store we passed just before had opened. When we passed it, it was almost 10, though the hours sign said they’d open at 9:30. I got lucky and bought some shoes before sprinting down the last 7km. The goal for the day was an albergue run by volunteers in a church. Bare bones but it’s supposed to be an experience.The moment we entered the volunteers, 2 ladies in their 40s or 50s came up to us giving us hugs and kisses and welcomed us to the space up in the church. Our beds are thin mattresses on the floor below the ceiling, one wall away from the beautiful church, in my opinion much nicer than the cathedral visited earlier and with much more character. There is no internet, but there are instruments to play on and many people to talk with. The cost of a night’s stay is donativo, so you pay what you can, or you can take money out of the cash box if you’re in need – no questions asked! The rest of the day brought lots of socializing with it with lots of people from across the globe. The work including cooking, doing the dishes, getting bread from the bakery, and making desert was all shared by everyone. Before dinner we then attended the church service and received the pilgrim’s blessing after. Setting the tables for all 40 or so of us was a well thought out process where everyone was involved again, same with the clean up as well. As we ended the meal and finished clean up, we were herded back into the church for some reflection time. We were up high on a balcony at the far end of the church, the beautiful golden art behind the altar illuminated and surrounded by candles we sat in silence for a few minutes before sharing thoughts about our journey in our respective languages. A French pilgrim who just hit the 1000 km mark of his pilgrimage from Le Puy, France stood up and began singing a French song about love in a wonderful voice, which was carried through the massive stone building to resonate magically. What a profound moment. Afterwards some of us sat in a circle, grabbed the guitars and began singing songs such as The Proclaimer’s 500 miles. This Albergue was established 27 years ago by locals, pilgrims and a group of Germans. Pilgrim’s had stayed in this church for hundreds of years, but the official albergue status with added facilities was only then added. Anyone walking the Camino should try to make a stop here as this truly is a once in a lifetime experience.May 25:The morning started off with me hitting my head on one of the cross beams hard enough to delay my departure by one hour. I was worried about a concussion and definitely felt a bit lightheaded after. I let Victor, Chantal, and Nick pull ahead even though I might be able to keep pace with them now given my new shoes. When I eventually left, I ended up walking with a group of South Koreans and an American, all in their 20s, so I nicknamed them “the kids” and we had some fun conversations I haven’t had in quite a few years, most of which were quite philosophical. We stopped at a cafe owned by a Colombian who charged way too little money and served amazing food, including yucca empanadas, good sized pastries with yucca, which is a little like potato, and cheese. We carried on until I got to the village, I wanted to stay in for the day at about 23 km while they carried on for another 4 km. I ended up at the highest rated albergue on the Camino according to Victor’s app which happened to be run by a German couple, serving German food, and providing a proper bathroom. There weren’t enough people for them to make a good German supper by the time I had to sign up at the other restaurant across the street though, so I ended up eating there with Victor, Chantal, and Nick. A little after me signing up, a Brazilian father, daughter duo walked in, and I had to now share mine with them. They spoke only Portuguese which is nowhere to be found in my language skill chest, so we had some simple conversations in Portuguese, Spanish, English, and Mime (lots of gesturing) and were able to find out a few things about each other such as that his son, or her brother didn’t want to join and that the man who is 72 years old walked the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage in 19 days at the age of 63, which is an enormous pace for anyone, but especially for someone past their 30s. For more important things such as keep the door open, or the room will become very cold I opted to use google translate.May 26:A late start was in the cards for today since I wanted to treat myself to a German breakfast which my hosts enjoyed with me just a few minutes before 7. It became one of the better breakfasts I had so far, and my Camino family of Victor, Chantal, and Nick was waiting after they took their breakfast around the same time at the albergue they stayed at. I was storming ahead with Nick today, while the other two began falling behind with some leg and foot issues. After some kilometres we came across the Camino Oasis, a place with various stomps, wooden benches, and little pieces of wooden art, all painted in a colourful manner with lots of humour. Behind some tables with baked goods, fruits, juice and coffee was a man with lots of energy “selling” everything on a donation basis. When Victor was getting a coffee, he tried to donate his small coins, 1, 2, and 5 cents, and a few bigger ones but received a friendly earful that he shouldn’t use this opportunity to just get rid of his copper coins. At some point Victor was changing his shirt, a woman in her late 20s arrived at the same time and the guy who ran the by donation roadside stand began to cat call, whistle and doing some easy to enter prey dance motions. We weren’t really sure if it was meant for the girl or Victor taking of his shirt, so it was either a very uncomfortable or a very funny moment.Our day finished unexpectedly at Atapuerca, when we saw the kids sitting by an albergue, waiting for it to open, Nick and I decided to wait for the other two to catch up to make sure they were ok since we didn’t see them anywhere behind us. After a bit of waiting Victor and some time after Chantal arrived. As we waited, we learned about a nearby archaeological site with significant findings to human history, such as the earliest signs of cannibalism, so Nick and I decided to stay for a tour while the other two moved on to the next town after I made a phone reservation for beds there for them. I explored the village which had a beautiful old church, as they all do, and a massive biotope hiding behind it, unfortunately though there was only enough space for one of us to go on tour, so I let Nick take the spot. As he was gone, I was invited to the bar with a group of people mostly in their late 20s and some outliers. We got beers and after informing a local that a cat jumped into his car through the open window and appears to be eating food, he provided us with sausage, prosciutto and wine, we added some bread, cheese and wine from the grocery store and had a great snack. I declined their offer to stay in an AirBNB with them for two days in Burgos because I don’t have the time and I felt like they’re more on a pub crawl along the Camino than a pilgrimage which wasn’t the purpose of my journey. Being part of that other Camino family for a few hours really made me miss my own in Victor and Chantal. When the tour was supposed to be over I excused myself and went back to the albergue to find Nick to go out for supper, we took in Sophie, the US girl of the kids as well who studies for her Master’s in London, UK and I ended up providing translation services at the place we were for many other pilgrims since the person behind the bar only spoke Spanish. After our meal we found the pub crawler crowd on the porch, had a bit of fun and went off to bed.May 27:During the Morning march on the camino Nick and I came across a little tower with a bell from which a rope lead down to be tied to a little baker. A bell that was meant to be rung! It may be a most evil deed to ring a bell on a town square with residences surrounding it at 8am on a Saturday, but I was not going to pass up the opportunity and even made it out of the village alive. I rang it gently. Since it was a Saturday and the next sensible stop happened to be the city of Burgos, my plans to avoid partying locals in front of my accommodations lead me to plan for a 32 km walk past the city, but as it goes with plans, Nick and I began talking about keeping the foot off the Gas as Victor wrote us about his crazy pace and ambitious plans for the day. We met a lady going the opposite way, a reverse Camino, who recommended the public albergue in Burgos. With all that, Nick and I made our way for the albergue we thought she meant, but realized as we got closer that it wasn’t the one. We accidentally set our sights on a monastery that hosts up to 20 pilgrims a day. Having completed our 20km pension for the day by around 10:40 am, we had some time to relax by the door in a shaded spot until it would open at 1pm. After a bit we were joined in waiting by Sergiy, a Ukrainian soldier from Odessa who is taking time off from the war to walk the Camino, and learned from a volunteer that there were rules and expectations if we were to stay at the monastery. The usual lights out at 10 pm, but also no getting up until 6:30 am, we were expected to participate at a church service at 7, and had to attend the blessing at 7:45. Then a communal dinner at 8 followed by a sharing and reflection time. You also weren’t allowed to stay if you already had stayed in Burgos the night before, or took a taxi, train or bus today. There was also an emphasis on being quiet since we would be in a church where people pray throughout the day. That all sounded quite alright for us and we continued with the wait.Once open, we got settled before going into town to visit the cathedral and the museum of human evolution. I redressed my left foot which is beginning to become more blister than not. The right foot on the other hand is pristine, no issues! The redressing may have been a mistake since the pain I experienced on our outing became almost unbearable, and I have become quite pain resistant in the last week and a bit. We explored the amazing cathedral with countless chapels dedicated to various saints, almost every inch of the interior was decorated or carved. The pain however kept me from an excursion into the museum, so while Nick strode off to there, I got something for the swelling on my left foot and right shin, and slowly stumbled the kilometre back to the monastery, chocolate ice cream in hand.After a way too short rest we were called to church for mass, the expected 20 minutes turned out to be twice as long, but the pilgrim’s blessing at the end was very special. This was my third pilgrims blessing, and while the others were group blessings of all pilgrims at once, this priest took the time to bless each pilgrim at a time, and he took some time for it as well. When he read out represented countries he paused and looked up after reading Ukraine with a strong sense of respect. Our meal after then became quite rushed by our hospitalero Jacques who initially told us to talk and be a community but then ended up trying to get us to eat faster and talk less since it got late and he liked order. What was odd was that they asked for dietary restrictions, but then completely ignored them anyway, and didn’t even appear to know what a term like vegan even meant. Serving up to 20 people a day that is almost a remarkable achievement. I am lucky enough to be able to eat everything, and it was delicious, but the group felt quite bad for those who couldn’t. After the meal we had some talk, and by we I mean Jacques, about what it means to be a pilgrim. He managed to slide way too many self glorifying anecdotes into his spiel and left a weird impression of him. Throughout the day he already attempted to promote his Instagram account many times, but this time he really put on a thick layer of narcissism. Then off to bed!May 28:At 6:30am calm church music sounded through the dorms, and we got to breakfast at 6:45. I found an opportunity to chat with Sergij after breakfast, which turned into a very emotional conversation about the state of his country I won’t forget for a long time. He also lectured me to shorten my days or the swelling on my shin will become an even bigger issue. We said our goodbyes and I promised to keep it light, planning to keep my daily mileage at 20 km for the next while. With my new pills against the swelling Nick and I took off. My foot was behaving and pain relatively low, though the swelling increased toward the end of the day’s walk as usual again.At our first stop in a village after 12 km, we ran into a French girl we knew from the communal albergue in the church, Aureli. I also had a short encounter with her at the store I bought my shoes, she stormed in asking for masking tape and was informed that there wasn’t any, she mumbled about going all the way to the town she would stay at without it and I told her “hey, it’s only 7 km from here” she became all smiles and jumped up from joy at the news before leaving the store. She had taken a day off in Burgos to deal with an infected tooth. She got some quick emergency work done by a dentist who was technically off but came in to help her. The issue isn’t resolved but rather dealt with until she can get it done properly at a place where she will be for several days, so likely Santiago. Equipped with care instructions and pain medication she went on to continue her pilgrimage which was initially planned as just a ten day walk. Nick and I eventually stopped after 20km at noon in Hornillos at a place Victor recommended with supposedly great Paella. The man running the albergue also me an ice pack to cool my shin, and while I had that tied around my leg I spent the afternoon talking to some people, including a 45 year old Saskatchewan man, and accidentally having a short nap. Getting up from my nap, I noticed I wasn’t the only one and the snoring around me gave me a taste for what the night ahead will bring. For lunch I ended up paying as much for a tiny salad as Nick did for an absolutely massive salami sandwich. Taught me a lesson for trying to eat healthy. Dinner was at the Victor famous Paella (he hyped it a bit too much) with good, light conversation. Nick and I kept talking into the night a bit, knowing that this would be our last chance to do so since he will go back to his pace while I’m going to slow down more, keeping to shorter and slower days until the swellings subside.May 29:This morning was a tough goodbye with Nick who left a bit before me. It was a little by design that I wouldn’t briefly run into him if he took an uncharacteristically early break. I began at a very slow pace, and being overtaken by some older fellow pilgrims became a humbling experience, but also an incredibly nice one. People aren’t shy to ask how one is doing and offer help in many forms. This is true for the whole camino, if one dares to step off the way there’s always a local somewhere shouting the right direction, though sometimes a pilgrim wants or needs to go off the path which can result in wild long-distance gesturing to calm the concerned local. The first town I got to, Hontanas was almost car free. I read that it used to, there are some small gravel parking areas outside town since there is no space for cars in town, but now people can at least drive into it for delivery or emergencies. At the cafe in town, I first found Aureli and was shortly after surprised by the turning up of the kids. I thought they split up and were behind, but they managed to surprise me, so I found my walking buddies for the rest of the day and enjoyed the early 20s deep, almost ridiculous conversations once again, what a treat. Shortly before arriving at my goal for the day, Castrojeriz, we came across the ruins of the old monastery and pilgrim hospital San Anton which was a magnificent sight. Today, there is an albergue in the part that still had a roof. The ruins featured altars and showed the original size and layout of the monastery. In Castrojeriz I went to the grocery store to save some money on supper and lunch before laying in bed, icing my shin and watching some movies with the free wifi. As I was doing my laundry at the outdoor patio sink to the music of a Dutchman’s guitar tunes, Chantal came walking by. I couldn’t believe what I saw at first, she ended up walking 10km yesterday after all and added another 30km to it today, which really impacted all the progress she made on her knee. I don’t think she’ll be able to walk the same distance as me tomorrow, but we’re planning to start out together for olden day’s sake. I did eventually make it to laying down with an ice pack on my leg, staring at my phone when a massive thunder shook me off the phone. It was time to get up and bring in the still soaked laundry before it received its second round of washing by Mother Nature. The Dutchman with the guitar was there again, playing songs about rain and sun as pilgrims carried in portable drying racks and took laundry off the clotheslines. “Here comes the sun” to the rumbling thunder while unclipping socks has something spirit raising, but it unfortunately doesn’t help dry socks for the morning. Eventually back to lying down, the ice pack warmed up enough to go back into the freezer first though. After a good nap and some extra rest, I went to check the laundry. The communal dinner was slowly coming to an end on the covered patio addition as I made my way through to my socks and other clothes that were put back outside on the portable drying rack, though the lack of sun and wind in the small, enclosed outside patio area didn’t help much, so me and another person decided to put it outside the wall in the parking lot behind the albergue. That works! The laundry still didn’t entirely dry until bedtime, but it did enough that hanging it on nails and such around my bed did the trick. As the communal meal finished, one pilgrim brought out a guitar and the crowd of weary travellers began to sing for hours; wine in hand we joyfully shouted along to country road and other classics.Given the 11 km to the next town, and the fact that Chantal preferred a later start I opted to get the breakfast, which was an all you can eat buffet. As we indulged, my conversation with a Belgian turned into friendly banter about beers and whether German or Belgian was superior. A younger German man from Berlin didn’t seem to get the friendly, teasing nature of our debate and marched up against the Belgian with arguments that were ill prepared and quickly torn apart. The atmosphere changed and it was time for me to leave. Chantal and I both sent our bags ahead with a transport service to give our bodies opportunity to heal, what a difference! The difficult and painful hike turned into an almost pain free walk in the sun. The scenery was awesome, the weather perfect and my walking buddie’s pace in tune with mine. Almost right out of the gate we climbed a massive hill, expecting to walk on a plateau for a while after, but no, a few steps after the incline it went right back down again with several warnings about the steepness of the descent. On our way up, Mark from Saskatchewan came down towards us, perplexed I asked him why he was going back. He started in his sandals and forgot his shoes back in town. After the initial hill, the trail guided us through flat farmland, with only two towns for stops along 20km and the need to drink a lot due to the sun burning down, finding suitable bathroom stops became quite the challenge, especially for women. The prairie type landscape is supposed to stay with us for a while as well. On the walk, with my little red bag in hand I thought about what I actually needed. Most albergues offered blankets, it was unlikely that I was going to camp since I’m way too tired for that way too early, and my body really enjoyed the lack of weight… a purge of equipment is on the horizon at the next post office, which could take a while. About halfway through the days journey we came across a stone building that reminded us of a crypt, possibly a large chapel, in fact however, it was an old pilgrim’s hospital turned into an albergue with a few beds with black and scarlet red bedding. The scarlet red can be found quite a bid throughout the small building made up of one large room. I was a little sad about how early it still was since staying here with dinner by candlelight under the Templar Standards. Crossing the massive roman bridge after the ancient hospital I turned around to see Mark again. A cyclist pilgrim, or bicigrino, enquired why he was walking away from Santiago; it isn’t uncommon to do the reverse Camino, but Mark was fortunate that the cyclist noticed his distress, and basically won the kindness lottery when the cyclist offered to ride back to town to grab Mark’s shoes for him. That way he was able to catch up to us. Finding lavender along the trail, I finally picked some, squished and kneaded it for a while and rubbed it on legs and knees for the calming effect it is supposed to have on aches and pains. After 20km I bid farewell to Chantal who was staying in the village we encountered while I had another 5km to the town of Fromista. The trail was wonderful along the Castilian Canal until it crossed over the waterway where it turned into a locks like cascading feature into the town of Fromista. The town is quite nice with more cafés than inhabitants by the looks of it. Currently, I’m writing the last words of this week’s update while resting in my bed with an elevated leg while listening to the trailer of tonight’s program, couple snoring out of tune and rhythm. 14 days and 350 km down!

 
 
Update 2 – May 17 – 23, 2023:

May 17:

The walk began with a steep climb out of the small town of Spain Jean Pied de Port, though the weather was nothing short of perfect. Being cool, and mostly sunny, the views were amazing. I began early and had the pleasure of being alone for the first bit, walking with a sunrise greeting me from beyond the hills to the side. I quickly shed the sandals I brought for walking and was able to do the walk barefoot, though the end, a steep decline on a rocky path did not feel too good, it was difficult to not smile all the way. The steep hills and mountains are mostly bare and often dotted with free-roaming horses, sheep, and cattle. The larger animals often carry bells around their necks, and the noises produced by their swinging necks became a familiar sound along the trail and somewhat the soundtrack of the day. I finished off the day with a pilgrims meal supper consisting of a pasta appetizer, trout and potato entree, and a dessert cake, all served with a bottle of wine, followed by a mass at the magnificent Roncesvalles Church where pilgrims get a blessing bestowed upon them.

May 18:

I took off quite early today, my bunk neighbour’s noise got me to wake up without a chance of falling back asleep, so I managed to be out, walking in the dark just before 5.45. I had managed to cross a few villages in solitude by the time I found an open cafe to have breakfast at for others to catch up, though not too many streamed past, and mostly solitude besides a few shorter conversations would be the theme of the day. As I carried a banana peel with me for several kilometres due to a long time it needs to break down, and the amount of pilgrims walking each day, I came to think about the saying “What if everyone did that?” in regards to picking up litter, and thought that it may be better suited as “and what if no one else does it?”, given that the former, common saying requires reliance on others; if everyone picks up the litter there would be none, but can we really rely on everyone to do it? The second phrase may be more encouraging since it implies that there is an impact if only you do it; if no one picks up this piece of litter it will continue to be there, though I have the power to make an impact by taking it. 

A blister developing on my foot kept me from continuing the walk barefoot today, since I was worried about an infection after popping it, but the sandals worked well until the continuous downhill sections lead the straps to bruise the foot a little. However, it wasn’t bad enough to keep me from continuing after reaching the most common ending town for day two since I got there a little early, a great choice as it turned out since the addition of over 5km to 27km for the day lead me to some friends I made the day before with whom I’m staying at a great Albergue with warm showers, good food and comfortable beds.

May 19:

Today, my two new Camino friends, Will and Victor from England and the Netherlands respectively decided that we would trek the 32km to Urtega, only stopping briefly in Pamplona. The aim was to get off the regular pilgrim stop schedule. At some point Victor asked Will why he is walking the Camino and the answer “It’s just good to get out of Britain” left the Dutch, and me, a German in tears from laughter. In the tiny village of Zabaldika we took a short break early in the morning, the lack of coffee so far this morning was beginning to wear and while we planned to walk until a good coffee stop, a need for a break came before the cafe. So there we sat, three men in their 20s and 30s sitting on a tiny wooden bench, slowly starting to notice two trail markers going in opposite directions. Some research later we found out that the trail to the right was the original, and the one to the left was a newer option. We decided to obviously go the proper traditional way, so up we got, turned right, saw the hill said “nope” in unison and off we went the other way down the hill. The joke’s on us, we had to climb the hill eventually further down the way.

Arriving in Pamplona, we opted to buy some ingredients at a grocery store to make sandwiches and soon after we sat shoulder to shoulder building our lunches on a bench surrounded by pigeons, one of which was one-legged. Not being city people, we didn’t stick around in Pamplona for long, just had a coffee with cookie at the Pamplona Cookie Cafe on a nice plaza with outdoor seating and I visited an outdoor gear store to replace a piece on my walking stick. The chatty shopkeeper tied me up for a bit until Victor stuck his head in and uninhibitedly asked if all was ok, that ended up being enough for my release and we kept pushing on. We knew that a steep climb was coming up but couldn’t believe that we would still scale the giant hill in sight that day. Feet aching, we gradually made it to the silhouettes telling the history of pilgrim generations. A strong wind waited to greet but the sun shining down made for a very comfortable break there. As soon as we began the descent on the other side of the hill, the wind stopped and the air became hot and moist. An incredible change in climate from one step to another. The view of Urtega, our goal in the distance and the trail winding through to hills far away for the next day lifted spirits. I saved listening to music for this tough part of a tough day, and listening to Bohemian Rhapsody helped me almost painlessly skipping down the steep path covered by large rocks. What an end to a day’s walk! We rewarded ourselves for our feat with beers and laundry which was paid for by helping move a fridge at the Albergue. Not sure we were the right men for the job. One thing I am surprised about is how fast and well my Spanish came back. Being the only one of our trio who knows any Spanish at all, I guess much of it was born out of necessity.

May 20:

We were lucky to just be avoided by rainy clouds in the morning. Overall, having had no rain in the first four days seems to be quite a lucky streak! As the days walk went on, it became apparent that it would become a bit more painful than the others before. My knee said hello, another blister developed and my left foot swelled a bit, the proper pilgrim experience. The initial idea of walking 20km first and then decide if we should do an extra 5km to Villatuerta eventually turned into a 29km hike to the city of Estella. My body was officially done by the end. After a shower and a call home I went into town to meet up with my friends Victor and Will for some Paella. I was very surprised be the huge party everywhere in town, people dressed in red and white were singing, shouting and laughing everywhere – not celebrating Canada despite the colours as we later found out. A huge stage was put up in the town square and we eventually came to the conclusion that there is no place to have dinner, so after the scouting attempt we went to the grocery store to make pasta with lots of meat and vegetables and buy beer, wine, and gummi bears of course.

On our way back to our albergue we walked down a narrow pedestrian street that was boarded up at almost every intersection and those that weren’t were about to. Clueless we moved on to be eventually approached by a lady of the tourism office notifying us that they will soon release the bulls to chase maniacs down this narrow, boarded-up path and that we aren’t allowed to run because we were wearing sandals. I’m also pretty sure that we were hanging on to our lives too much to be allowed to partake. Neither of us was aware that towns other than Pamplona had such an event and we got out of there as soon as we could. With our painfully empty stomachs and crowds approaching we also ended up prioritizing cooking over watching the potentially bloody spectacle and ethically questionable spectacle.

The meal ended up fantastic and the drinks were great, a Spaniard engaged with us in conversation though I didn’t partake much trying to keep my head from accelerating into the plate in front of me from pure exhaustion. The conversation became a theatrical hand-and-foot communication show I ended up enjoying. As I eventually got up and excused myself, I was surprised with my Spanish and informed the Iberian that my two friends kept me around for my Spanish skills and forced me to push on to Estrella this day like slave drivers with Walk on! chants, but also that I was off my translation work for the moment due to reaching the end of my mental capacity. I confessed the contents of the private Spanish conversation for a good laugh and went off to bed.

May 21:

The day unfolded to become another longer, 28 km day, but much less painful than the last. Not long after the start we came across a blacksmith who makes all kinds of trinkets and items. Victor told us a story he saw on YouTube about him forging a piece to fix a pilgrim’s backpack free of charge. A few steps past his smithy we came across the famous wine fountain. The trail has little taps to refill a water bottle every few kilometres, this one, however, was no ordinary refill station since it had two taps, one for water and one for wine. Yes, pilgrims can fill up bottles of wine free of charge! Other pilgrims that is since the tap was turned off on a Sunday Morning at 7.30 am… maybe for the better, and with decent bottles of wine going for 2 euros at the grocery store not a big loss either. At some point, I came across a woman around 60 years of age sitting on a bench next to the trail in between towns. A police car pulled up as I got there and since there was a language barrier, I offered to translate. It was all wrapped up in a minute and the lady was taken to her next accommodation for the night. She had called emergency services since she wasn’t able to continue due to her knee hurting too much. I, myself found a little shortcut on a map I was keen to take. There would be two turn-offs to get to it and I was aiming for the second which turned out to have become overgrown… not keen on going back to the first turn-off since that had been a bit ago, I just stuck with the regular route.

At Los Arcos, the town I initially thought I’d stay at, being 20 km from our start, I still felt good and upon meeting the others decided to push on after them. First, however, it was time for some amazing deep-fried pockets stuffed with potato, cheese, peppers and who knows what. Followed by a sandwich and a Snickers ice cream bar and accompanied by a beer.

Before embarking to the Camino, I decided to make it my mission to pick up garbage reasonably close to the trail, but since picking up all of it would require me to get a wheelbarrow, I’m sticking to mostly wrappers and cans. Today my commitment was tested when I found a heavy grocery bag full of garbage 5 km from the last town in the middle of nowhere. My knee was not impressed, but I was absolutely not able to just keep on walking. Going back to the tragedy of the commons, I was thinking that if no one else picks it up the garbage would just accumulate until we have to wade through it. That seemed unacceptable and encouraged me to do my part. If instead I thought “if everyone else also picked it up we would not have any garbage anywhere” I might have thought about how that would never happen anyway, so I might as well not bother reaching for that lofty goal. 

At the end of today’s walk, there were two towns about one kilometre apart from each other. A ver steep kilometre at that. I advocated for finding a spot at the first town since the next day would be short enough as it is at around 20 km, but was outvoted by the other two who wanted to go to the farther town. To be fair, that one has pools. So the others walked ahead and I crawled on a bit behind as usual. Eventually getting to the second town, I called the others over the internet only to learn that they stayed in the first town, Sansol. I, sitting in Torres del Rio looked up at the outskirts of Sansol towering above and made a decision to not go back up and instead stay down in my little town for the night. Pools aren’t open yet though unfortunately.  However, the Spanish man from the night before whom I surprised with my language skills happens to stay at the same place as me again. He enthusiastically greeted me and immediately needed to know where my non-Spanish speaking friends were. I told him the story, we had another good laugh and he assured me that if there’s anything I need I just need to ask. Great! I should ask him to make less noise than yesterday when he goes to bed. 

Supper was a pilgrims menu at a quite nice restaurant, we got to choose from a variety of appetizers including salads, soups, asparagus, pasta and more, as well as one of quite a few entrees which mostly varied in choice of protein, pork, beef, chicken, fish, etc. Desert was also a choice between some puddings and flans. I had a great meal with great conversations on our multinational table.

May 22:

At the first stop of the day, a small food kiosk in the middle of nowhere set up for pilgrims, I met Manuel from the Philippines again. We had a great chat the day before when we learned about our shared name. I sat down with him and another man from Germany. After some talking it turned out that this man’s name was Hans, which coincidentally is my middle name. I don’t really meet people with either name too often, but there we were sitting at a table, Manuel, Hans, and Manuel Hans, 5 km from any civilization in Navarra, Spain.

A little later I also met Dan again, an IT specialist from Romania who left the city, bought a property on a mountain and built a container house. Now, it is very common for people on the Camino to share food, drink, medication, anything really, but especially sweets, so I wasn’t thinking much when Dan handed me a cookie. Oh boy, I got higher than the day I crossed the Pyrenees… I parted ways with him at a shoe store at the first town to look at some of the pairs they had but made the call that this was not the right moment to make a > $100 investment that could make or break the whole trip. So I pushed on after a bit. I was in a zone and really, really hungry, so I made a quick break for the stop of my “rest day” of only 20km, the city of Logrono.

Needless to say, I got to my destination quite early, at 11am where I was greeted by an ambulance. The paramedics brought a lady who seemed to be doing ok out on a stretcher. The accommodation was great and I didn’t have to wait long for Victor and Will to arrive at the city. They decided to take on the next stretch of 12.5km so we had our goodbye meal in our traditional way, with food from the grocery store eaten at the park. I had a half-sized baguette, a pack of sliced prosciutto, a small box of sushi, a bag of gummi bears, two chocolate bars, and a beer, while the others bought a full-sized, wide baguette each. Will’s also had some seeds on it. They then decorated them with meat cuts as well and as we sat there inhaling mountains of food, we became the park’s biggest attraction. People would laugh and make comments and shout encouragements for the walks ahead. What a meal! My two friends also revealed that they had begun to correlate Camino personas to Lord of the Rings characters, and while they bestowed upon themselves the roles of Frodo (Victor, because he’s annoying and screws everything up – his words) and Sam (Will), they saw in me Gandalf the grey, who was just about to stay behind to ward off evil to someday return. Great, now I have to figure out how to catch up to them again?! I guess I could return with a beaming light on the horizon as Gandalf the White in an Uber with high beams flashing.

May 23:

I was exhausted when getting up this morning. Everything hurt, including teeth, probably since they’ve been working overtime the last week as well. A Tylenol did wonders though! Maybe they should consider the pilgrim as a pharmaceuticals mascot.

In the next town over, 12 km along the trail, a German who stayed with me in the same room in Logrono was sitting at a cafe. I asked if he would like some company and he invited me to sit down. As I began a conversation he began staring at his phone and ignoring me. Maybe it’s because the soccer team Herta Berlin, whose label is portrayed on his hat sits in last place and is being relegated.

After that awkward exchange I made my way into the adjacent church to light a candle, I as not prepared for the magnificence of it, especially since Navarete, the town it is in, isn’t very big. Behind and around the altar towers a golden wall with pictures, statues and engravings from floor to ceiling. Each corner of it could rival most churches I had been to before. I was humbled and the images carried with me for a while on the walk after.

16 more contemplative kilometres later, I got to Najera. The town seemed to be moving further and further away as I approached it, and all I wanted by the time I got there was a large, cold beer. Mission accomplished. From here I had to decide if I wanted to stop at the 28km mark or push for another 5 to 6 km. The choice to push on to make this the longest stretch covered in a day so far almost became a big mistake. Arriving in the town of Azofra I was informed that the only Albergue was full, but the person behind the counter kept talking about another Albergue. I couldn’t find one on any of my resources and approached him again. After some more conversing and a little shock for me it turned out that the Albergue had an overflow building I could stay in. That was just as good as any other place I had been and the Albergue itself has a small wading pool. At the time of me writing this, I’m sitting by that pool, feet cooling down in the water, a beer in hand, and the sun above. A week in and it’s not a bad Pilgrimage so far.

Update 1 – May 16, 2023:

The build-up to this pilgrimage didn’t exactly go down smoothly. In an almost spur of the moment decision one day in early March, I booked my plane tickets to France near the Spanish border to walk the Camino de Santiago. At that point, I wasn’t sure which of the nearby routes I would take, the Camino del Norte, or northern route which runs along the coast, or the more travelled, most common route, the Camino Frances. What I did know was that I needed guidance and had the intention of finding answers as to what it is I want to move towards next, now that I was just about to finish my studies at University. Eventually it became clear that I would walk the French route, a decision that was cemented by this collaboration with the Inn. It felt more suiting and the layout lends itself for inner reflection. As luck may have it, my future fell into place before the walk – more time to focus on past reflection, I guess! As May drew closer, a hamstring issue I had lingering with me for almost a year suddenly decided to turn from a rare tug to a daily nuisance. As April came and went, the issue became worse, but with the help of physiotherapy and daily muscle-building exercises, it may just have become dealt with enough – time will tell.Another pressing concern was the choice of footwear. Over the last two months I bought somewhere around 10 pairs of shoes to find the right one. Due to the limited offerings in Sarnia, I either drove to London, ordered them online, or had them ordered by local businesses. The last two pairs seemed the most difficult to decide between. Both were hyped by former pilgrims and seemed the optimal choices for the trail. With $200 price tags they really had to be perfect. But they weren’t. Over many I switched the pairs, walking up and down the hallway in my house to figure out which would be best. Listening more to the chatter on forums than my gut, I postponed the inevitable. I was done shoe shopping and done with uncertainty, so I didn’t want to hear it, the truth that I didn’t want to see, none of them work for my feet. I have always had trouble with finding comfortable shoes, and that hasn’t changed apparently. In a last ditch effort to find THE shoe, I drove to London four days before departure with the intention of going to a store for high-end trail runners to have my Cinderella moment, but stopped at a different store for hiking shoes first, just to see. I prefer trail runners for their lightweight and quick-dry attributes, so I didn’t really consider hiking shoes too much, but who knows. I did what I should have done long before, turned that brain off and went with my gut. And there you go! Out I walked with a solution that would definitely work. No need for the extra stop at the other store, because in my hand I held a well-reduced-in-price pair of Teva Sandals. Naturally, I wouldn’t plan on walking the entire trail in Sandals, they are intended to be put on when barefoot walking gets too rough – that is at least how a former Filipino pilgrim went about. How viable this is without training may become evident when I’m scrambling for a pair of shoes in the city of Pamplona on day 3.Another tough decision I faced was weather to bring my bivy, a kind of miniature tent that barely fits a sleeping bag and a thin foam mat since an inflatable thermorest would definitely add too much weight. Even in this constellation I’ll be carrying another 500g, but it allows me to stay flexible, and I really wanted to sleep out under the stars on some clear nights, so I opted to take them with me. The thought of having to check where to stay the night before and make a reservation also just seemed to counter intuitive to me, but is said to become more and more important as beds along the Camino fill up.  For now, I’m enjoying the day before, talking to pilgrims who are starting and those who have many kilometres on their boots, the mountain of tomorrow in sight and anticipation building.The images show what I packed minus a rain poncho and a pocket knife which I bought upon arrival.

The Journey Begins:



My name is Manuel Spiller, I have decided to embark on the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. It has been calling me for a mental and physical health check-up, and now that I have the time and financial means, I feel compelled to answer its call. I also find myself wondering where my education and experiences will take me next, and I believe that the Camino could offer me the guidance I seek. This pilgrimage route, the Camino, has gained a reputation for helping individuals invoke or find change. The reasons for this vary depending on who you ask. Some attribute the Camino’s transformational powers to a sense of magic, while others point to more tangible factors.

Pilgrims who have walked the route from Saint Jean Pied de Port to Santiago de Compostela often describe the journey as taking them through three distinct phases. The first phase is physical, during which walkers must test their resilience to pain and discomfort as they cross the Pyrenees mountains and adapt to the daily routine of long-distance walking. The second phase is mental, as they traverse the flat plateau of Meseta with little to distract them, and confront themselves day after day. The final phase is spiritual, during which walkers can use the insights gained from their physical and mental trials to aid in personal transformation or discovery as the trail winds through hilly landscapes into the province of Galicia.

I believe that these phases of the Camino cannot be replicated in our day-to-day lives. There is a sense of freedom in the pilgrimage’s routine of walking, eating, and sleeping. This is a different kind of freedom from what we typically associate with the word. Instead of the freedom of choice, that implies a lack of rules and regulations, the Camino offers the freedom we relate to children, who are free to focus on themselves and not worry about making decisions. It forces the pilgrim to have faith, and sacrifice control.

As I planned my upcoming walk and read about the potential challenge of finding available accommodations after a day’s journey, my thoughts turned to the broader community. I have always sought to make the most of any opportunity, and given the Inn’s mission, it seemed only natural to me to reach out to The Inn of The Good Shepherd.

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