The Camino casualties are mounting. I no longer want to ask people how they’re doing because I’m afraid of their answers. So many people are having a hard time because of blisters or other even worse problemas.

My Nevada amigo has a bad case of shin splints. I don’t exactly know what those are but I’m highly suggestible, and as soon as he told me about it, my leg muscles started to spasm in sympathy.

And my young Danish friend? With the ice bags and handfuls of Tylenol? When I asked him what was wrong he told me very earnestly that his ligaments had broken off and were now down around his ankles. He was so pleased with this diagnosis that all I could do was nod in agreement and give him an orange.

This morning I left Castrojeriz with my Queensland amigo and walked slowly with him as he limped up the steep hill as the path rose back up onto the Meseta. He still presses forward in spite of a leg infection that landed him in the hospital in Longroño.

***I am in awe of my injured amigos’ determination to make it to Santiago. ***

When I asked the jovial Australian what motivated him to continue in spite of his obvious pain, he thought for a moment and then said “I want my wife to be proud of me”.

Now I don’t know his backstory but I do know I had to fish around in my pack for my hanky, (sniff sniff).

The Meseta continues to surprise me. Maybe it’s the time of year or maybe I’m just not far enough west yet but it’s truly beautiful — emerald green fields dotted with wild flowers and lovely little Camino villages.