I’ve wanted to do the Camino for a long time. Ever since Nelson and I were in Le Puy, France years ago and I saw peregrinos on the path there at the cathedral.

I’m so glad I did it now and didn’t wait any longer. Between the books, movies, documentaries, and (ahem) travel blogs, the popularity of the Camino is exploding. 

Speaking of movies, I spent the first few days of my Camino listening to an Australian amigo talk about “Shane”. Who is this Shane I wondered, some saint of the Outback?

I didn’t understand until I got to Roncesvalles and saw this hanging over the fireplace in the bar:

So today’s walk into Santiago has been a long time coming.

I  thought I might cry once I finally made it to the cathedral but I calmly assessed my journey and quietly congratulated myself on a trek well trekked.

Ok, that last sentence was a lie. 

Of course I cried! I am a champion crier. Now we are talking superpower!  It’s lucky I didn’t stumble over my feet and end up crawling into the plaza (I promised Nelson I wouldn’t crawl.)

My Korean amigo, the soft-spoken retired physician, told me that it was his observation that I walked with joy. “Walked with joy” — I think that’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said about me.

 

So I arrived in Santiago with happy feet and yes, a joyful heart. 

And as long as I’m talking about crying I might as well add that I brought Rita’s lovely scarf along with me thinking maybe it would help make me a little more presentable in the evenings.

But after the second day of crazy hair and socks with sandals I knew nothing would help. Instead I’d put the wrap over my shoulders to keep me warm while I read  and I found that very comforting. 

Indeed, it was she who carried me when the way seemed impossibly long or my spirits drooped. Gracias mi hermana, mi amiga.

So here I am in Santiago, a few days ahead of schedule and I’m looking forward to exploring the city. But I’m ready to come home. 

I miss my sweetie, my family, and my friends (Mary, Nelson is squeezing the limes already.) And of course, my perro. 

  
Muchas gracias for listening and for the kind words amigos. A travel blog is a somewhat (actually, very) selfish endeavor and I’m honored to have had your company on my journey.

  
 

Tomorrow to Santiago. Words are failing me so here are some  photos from today.

  

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

  
  
 

 

  

  

I am almost to Santiago. And in spite of the many new peregrinos the Camino is still a lovely walk. 

  
   

  

  

Along with so many other things I have learned on the Camino, I now know what to do in cases of bovine emergency:

 

Thanks to my German amigo’s recommendation, I now have some appropriate music with which to walk through this very Celtic part of Spain — from the Spanish bagpiper, Hevia. (Who would have ever guessed I’d willingly listen to bagpipe music?)

And once more, I’ve been getting signs.  Signs of home.

Other Seattle peregrinos have been popping up and I ran into a group of Seattle and Portland cyclists few days back in a little village (Amy, Kempton says hi!).

And this? As I sat in my little room, reading and writing, I suddenly felt I should get up and look out my window. 

But the final straw came when I returned to my room after dinner. I opened the door and then stepped back to look around. Had someone gone into my room? But a quick check revealed that everything was as I left it. 

So the only conclusion I can draw is:

I have become stinky.

It’s time to go home. 

In order to earn the Compostela, peregrinos must walk at least the last 100 km of the Camino. (The Santiago de Compostela Cathedral has been issuing these certificates of accomplishment since the Middle Ages.)

What this means for me is that I now have lots of company in my search for the sweet spot on the trail. 

 Many of the new peregrinos began their Caminos in Sarria and by now the other Camino routes have linked up with my route (the Frances route) including the Camino del Norte (Buen Camino Marisol!!) and the Vía de la Plata.

What this also means is that now the Camino more closely resembles a rolling party rather than a rolling boot camp. Shops selling Camino souvenirs have appeared and the cafes and bars have long lines and loud music.

 

 

  

So many new faces! After a month on the trail it’s somewhat of a shock. 

 

 

The upside to all these new people is that there are now more options for places to stay at night. Lots of pensións, inns and small hotels. 

It’s been fun staying at so many different kinds of places. The albergues are easy, social and cheap. But the albergues are co-ed and one of my many surprises was that the bathrooms are co-ed too (individual stalls for showers and toilets of course). 

So this means I’ve gotten used to brushing my teeth next to men of various ages in various states of undress — ok, in their underwear. (The women don’t seem to feel the same need to do this.)

   

Yes, we are a Camino family but what about MY EYES?? 

And I feel I can now say with some authority that North American men need to up their underwear game. The European men’s underwear looks like colorful bike shorts and jerseys. The North American men’s looks like, well …underwear. Bleh.

  

So an option for my own little room — me gusta! 

 

 

 

   

Apparently when Obama visited the Nederlands last year he used the word in one of his speeches. This made the news in Holland and my Dutch amigos were a little disappointed that I had not heard this on the American news as well. It mattered to them.

When they asked me about particularly American words, I started thinking about all that had happened to me on the Camino. And the only word that came to mind was “dork”.

 

 

Today was a pretty gezellig day on the Camino:

  

 

  

     

 

 

 

   

What a gorgeous morning! Not a cloud in the sky as I made my way down the Camino. Shades of green only interrupted by the purple heather at the higher elevations and the brilliant blue sky.

  
  
   

  

 

 
It was a perfect walking day, full of interesting vistas and I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I stopped for café con leche and had a lovely chat with some fun Americano amigos. Once I finished, I started back to the road and was just about to cross it to get back on the Camino when this happened:

 

 

Well how was I to know I was standing right where they would turn? Ok, in hindsight I did hear the herd dog bark twice and I now know what he said:

“Hey! Dumb ass!”  

“Put down the camera and get out of the way!”  

 

  
 

 

O’Cebreiro was shrouded in a fitting misty Galician cloud as I said my goodbyes to this magical village. I’m glad that I hadn’t given in to my earlier temptation to ditch my tights as I was happy to have all my warm layers this morning. I now understand why the thick, hot caldo gallego is so ubiquitous in this part of Spain.

 

 

I’m also glad I had such clear views yesterday on the ascent up the mountain. The clearest view I had this morning was of the wind wreaking havoc with the peregrino ponchos. 

I witnessed one sad peregrino get slapped across the face by hers as the wind picked up its edge and whipped it about. (plastic peregrino ponchos = muy peligroso!)

   

The clouds lifted as I descended into the valleys and the lush green countryside spread out before me. The path wound through small farms and even smaller villages. Every so often I’d stop and just watch the cows grazing next to the path. Such faces! And such noises!

   

 

   

Like so many other villages along the Camino, most everyone I saw working in the fields or walking in the towns was old. The young people have all left for cities or somewhere where there’s at least a possibility of an opportunity.

   
   

 

  

 

 
  

I am a good eater and its a fact that my stomach is my true superpower.  Nelson says I have the stomach of a cabra. It’s true.

  

Part of what I love about traveling is trying the regional foods and I always ask the waiter for the especialidad de la casa or a recomendación. Or I look around the restaurant to see what the locals are eating and as long as I don’t see animal heads or entrails, I’ll have what they’re having.

Usually this works wonderfully but part of the deal is suffering the occasional misfire. Like the “pudín de pimientos verdes something -something” which was so enthusiastically recomendado by my young waiter.

I hear “pimiento verdes” and automatically get excited. But this turned out to be a gelatinous, well, pudding (yes I should have known) topped by a cup or so of warm mayonesa. I am still having flashbacks. 

So I am very excited that the Camino has taken me to a new region in Spain – Galicia, home of caldo gallego, empanadas, and seafood of all sorts. Seafood? That means I really am getting closer to the coast and therefore closer to Santiago!

   
 

Another beautiful walking day as the path climbed up toward the Galician province of Lugo. 

   

 
  

   
 

  
Staying tonight up in the tiny Galician mountain town of O’Cebreiro. I have a little room on the top floor of an inn/tavern. It’s cozy and hopefully not haunted.

    
 

 

Today’s long hot walk gave me a taste of what the Camino must be like in the summer – hot! tough! Not for Jan! 

Spring has been the perfect time for me. For the most part the weather has been cool and the afternoons have been breezy. 

 

 

  

Not so today. After winding through the busy city of Ponferrada much of the path this morning was on or along asphalt roads.  ¡Muy caliente!

 

 

So far I’ve been able to handle what this Camino has dished out but running around in the heat is not my superpower.  Fifteen miles done but at least five more till my destination with no shade and the temperature still rising. 

I tried to remember the symptoms of heat stroke from my first aid course but I couldn’t remember anything. Oh no!  not remembering anything — isn’t that one of the signs? 

To distract myself from the real question (do I keep my long sleeves on and bake to death or take them off and broil to death?) I thought it was time to break out the headphones.

🎶 …send lawyers, guns and money — daaaad, get me out of this!…🎶

(Ok, side note to my own dad, this is just a little joke.  Actually, money is always nice.)

Just when I thought I would truly melt, the path began heading out away from the road toward that most welcoming of landscapes — wine country. What a lovely surprise.

 

 

  

  

  

Staying tonight in a lovely little town – Villafranca del Bierzo – set on a river surrounded by mountains. Steep! It’s testing the limits of everyone’s tight calf muscles.

 

 

 

 

In the mornings I try to find that sweet spot in the daily peregrino exodus from town– after the sensible early birds and before the college kids & tour groups. 

When I achieve it and I have the path and the silence to myself I often stop to just listen. It’s then I can really hear the songs of the birds and the footsteps of a thousand years.

   

 

Today was an amazing day — on all levels. The path climbed up and over Monte Irago to the highest point of the Camino. I was unprepared for the beauty of these mountains, so different from the Pyrenees.

Dare I a pun? Why yes, I think I will. Today was the peak experience of my trip. 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 
 

 

 
 

 

I’ve had many wonderful days in the mountains but I’m not sure any have matched this one. 

As I was heading down a particularly steep section of the trail (still gluing my head back together) I rounded a corner and came upon a man in trouble. And two men who were trying to help him.

Apparently the heat and strenuous trail were too much for him and it was clear he wouldn’t get down off the mountain without help.

Thankfully, I always carry extra water and food so we got him into the shade and got him cooled down a bit. And then we started the slow trek down, with the Italian father and son carrying our Irish amigo’s gear and supporting his weight.

It seemed to take forever but we finally got off the mountain and into town. And got him a room at an inn where he could rest. Of course, as soon as he was feeling a bit better he insisted on buying us a pint to celebrate. 

Cheers to the kind-hearted Italians, the brave Irishman and the beautiful mountains. ¡Salud!