Life's a Stitch

A million (!) steps behind us, after 40 days of walking, 2 rest days, 2 touring days, and one day of errands, we arrived in Santiago. Holding back the tears of joy:

The feelings are overwhelming: joy, sadness, gratitude and accomplishment. Although having successfully completing the Camino, I'm incredulous that I and so many others finish this pilgrimage, through pain, rain, up and down steep hills, putting one foot in front of the other until it's finally over.

The final day was tough, the bottom of my foot so swollen with tendinitis I no longer needed my orthotic, my foot forming its own padding. Denise, with an infected blister requiring her to walk in her Keene's, also hobbled into Santiago earlier in the morning.

We pushed our arrival in order to attend the pilgrim's mass, officiated by the bishop and seven priests, where the botafumiero (giant incense burner) is swung across the width of the cathedral, appearing to almost hit the ceiling. In the old days its purpose was to fumigate the smelly pilgrims, today it's only scheduled to be swung once per week and is purely spectacle.

We walked almost 500 miles and were never lost. Tonight, without the aid of arrows and pilgrims, we ended up a 51 minute walk from our hotel, following Google Maps to the Hotel San Lorenzo instead of our Hotel San Lazeron. It was late and very dark so we gave in and cabbed to the proper place.

Check back as tomorrow we head to the pilgrim's office to receive our compostelas, our certificates of completion. We'll be staying two nights in a converted monastery, a fitting end to an ancient pilgrimage.

Last night the address was technically still in Arzua, but it was quite a ways from town. We walked 1k to get back on track and once we did, we saw dewy fields at 9:00a.m., shortly after the usual astonishingly late sunrise.

We passed rows of trees,

a wall of beer bottles,

and mounds of mushrooms.

We walked all the way to O Pedrouzo with Denise and Greg, who left to get one town closer to Santiago.

We passed a memorial for a Dutch woman, who lived in Ireland, who upon completing her second Camino in the 1920's, died in her sleep in Santiago. Sadly two people have died on the Camino during our time here, both men in their 60's. One was a Canadian doctor from PEI, hiking with his wife. How very sad.

The unthinkable can also strike in what you think is a safe and insulated Camino world. While here in Spain the body of an American woman pilgrim, lured from the path earlier in the year, was found. A violent man with mental illness is in custody. Some pilgrims carried an extra scallop shell on their pack in her memory, but at some point I think she was in everybody's mind and heart.

Upon arrival at our pension, called the 9th of April, we were welcomed by the high energy host, who asked us how many kilometres we've walked. When we answered over 700, he shook our hands, dubbing us true pilgrims, not as he said, tourigrinos. He sent two beers with us to our room on the house.

I asked him about the name of the pension and he said it was the birth date of his son, born 18 months ago. Sweet. The room next to ours is the 29th of February. I wonder who the lucky leap year baby is.

Thinking about tomorrow being our last long day made me quite emotional. My foot is ready for the end but my head isn't.

The Camino wasn't going to let us off easy. It needed at least one more day of chewing us up prior to spitting us out in Santiago. The guide book showed a 100 meter incline over the 20k. My question is how many 100 meter inclines? I would guess 80% of today's path was heading up or down. The Brierly guide states one steep climb and a number of shallow river valleys.

We started the morning catching up with Denise and Greg and walking with the cows.

Past eucalyptus forests:

And many shades of green:

We had lunch in the sunshine at a quirky Celtic bar, playing Irish music and serving pizza.

We ended up in a pension off the path, but along a busy highway, not near anything. Looked like frozen lasagne, pizza, poor quality microwaveable paella and sandwiches were the choice. It's only for one night, I figured.

Chuck to the rescue. He noticed a veggie patch and asked if he could pay to pick some lettuce. He would have helped himself, however my Catholic girl background influenced by the Camino, turned him into an honest man. And I'll admit we've been carrying mini olive oils and balsamic vinegars across the Camino, which came in handy.

Voila! A beautiful fresh salad. Hey, where did the broccoli, kale, green onion, peppers, grapes and strawberries come from? Camino magic.

The scallop shells, hand picked from Australia's Gold Coast by Denise and Greg, were gifted to us.

22k of peaceful hiking, we found the solution to avoiding the crowds:
1. If you must stay in towns at the end of a stage in the popular Brierly guide, leave late. It seems most groups leave at 8:00 or 9:00a.m.
2. Even better, stay at a town located at the midpoint between the beginning and end of a particular stage.

The second strategy worked like a charm today. We left at 8:30 and had the trail mostly to ourselves. We walked through eucalyptus trees and found a giant shell marking our way.

We happened upon a large group praying together. As we approached they parted, allowing us through. We agreed that we could feel their positive Camino energy as we walked through their prayer tunnel. We'll take whatever help we can get.

Arriving at Melide, another Camino surprise. We booked into what we heard was a four bedroom house with a shared bathroom. Sometimes 35e will get you a damp room with lots of flies, today we found this treasure with a pool. OK, it wasn't swimmable, but far better than an ice pack on the foot.

Melide is famous for its pulpo (octopus). Joining our friends (Denise from West Van, her brother Greg from Australia and Pat from Colorado), we gave it a try.

It was good, a little fattier than I expected, but truthfully I'd rather have calamari.

The 50k marker awaits us in the morning.

We left Portomarin, crossing a bridge further up the river, revealing more of the landscape of the previous town.

Despite the uphills, cold rain and the noise of hundreds of pilgrims, it was a satisfying walk through a lush temperate rain forest climate similar to North Vancouver's, but with mostly deciduous trees.

We joked:
What's worse than walking uphill on the Camino? Walking uphill on the Camino in the rain.

What's worse than walking uphill on the Camino in the rain? Walking uphill on the Camino in the rain on the side of a busy road.

What's worse than walking uphill on the Camino in the rain on the side of a busy road? Walking uphill on the Camino in the rain on the side of a busy road amongst hundreds of people.

What's worse than walking uphill on the Camino in the rain on the side of a busy road amongst hundreds of people? Walking uphill on the Camino in the rain on the side of a busy road amongst hundreds of people and the guy in front of you is blasting music from his phone.

But the Camino has a way of putting things into perspective. Along came a man assisting a woman with her wheel chair on the wet muddy Camino:

We passed several large school groups. At home our kid's class trip was to outdoor school, here it's to the Camino. I bet they come home exhausted.

We've walked in and out of seasons to land in autumn in all of its colours:

One of six varieties of mushrooms we saw today:

Four more days and our Camino walking will be over. They say though, that our Camino will just be beginning as we incorporate our pilgrimage lessons into our life at home.

It's not the same Camino experience once you hit the 100k marker. The trail is now marked every .5k, a concrete countdown back to reality.

I was doing my best to stall and enjoy every last moment. C hit a grumpy patch, annoyed with the number of people, particularly the cyclists. In the previous sections there were times we would be walking alone, but most commonly we could count six pilgrims in front and behind us. Today there was a steady stream.

We passed by many farms and I admit that I've taken too many photos of cows. C likes to remind me that we have cows in Canada, but who can resist a face and a setting like this:

Our lunch break was at an oasis playing new agey music, where we joined our horse riding friends and met this sweet dog, caught halfway through a vigorous tail wag, who was more cooperative than the last one I attempted to photograph.

I know, we have dogs in Canada, too.

This is not the family mausoleum, but the area's unique grain storage sheds I had read about, designed to keep pests out.

Today's walk was along farmland right to the edge of Portomarin, where a tall bridge towers over the ancient Roman one. The funny thing is that the Roman bridge is only visible in seasons when the water level from the dam is low. Then other parts of the city prior to the flooding are apparent. Before the valley was flooded, important historical buildings were moved to the higher location, brick by brick.

Once again we are staying in a hostel over a bar in the next town over, as Portomarin was fully booked. The room is to the left of adequate, damp and worn, with a fair amount of flies. It's only for a night.

It's a holiday weekend here and there is a happily loud crowd in the bar below. I wonder how late it will go. Uh oh, they've just started to sing.

AKA, the day of the non walking wounded. The Camino is full of inspirational messages.

Pain is part of the Camino. The relentless walking takes its toll on the body: tendinitis, blisters, which thankfully for the most part we've avoided, bursitis, burning knees and fall injuries.

Resigned to our real rest day, we positioned ourselves to watch the pilgrim parade passing by. There came the Chicago duo, admirably continuing their Camino after his fall on the fourth day, arm casted and slinged.

Next arrived our Vancouver horse riding partner and her brother from Australia. She had visited the same clinic as I and received a diagnosis of tendinitis in her shoulder, requiring a rest. Luckily there were two beds available and they've joined us at Club Camino. OK I wasn't going to say anything, but this place in the middle of nowhere, is more like a mini resort. And only 45e per night!

The massage therapist came to work on me at 4:00 pm. Now that was an interesting experience. There was a little shed on the property reminiscent of a small shipping container. Unheated, there was a massage table covered with cold paper sheeting. None of the discrete draping we're used to. I'm still glad I did it but am looking forward to the Canadian version I'm accustomed to.

These are the pictures pilgrims are not supposed to send home.

The banquet room was prepared for a large family reception. Notice the interesting collection of sewing machines decorating the wall.

At lunch C was hesitant to order a beer because he hadn't earned it. So we pretended we were taking vacation time from the work of the Camino and indulged ourselves.

Another day of pastoral beauty in the sunshine into the city of Sarria, which marks the beginning of the home stretch, the last 100k of the Camino de Santiago.

Along the way we met a local donkey, a gentle docile soul used to pats and treats from passing peregrinos.

We passed the cabbage variety grown in Gallecia. Instead of in heads the leaves grow up a stalk.

We entered Sarria sadly knowing that the feel of the Camino would be changing. This is the last point where you can start and still earn your Compestela. There are hoards of shiny clean pilgrims decked out with brand new gear. I saw a group of Japanese women who, after attaching their scallop shells to their day packs, applied a fresh coat of makeup.

I stopped into the clinic to have my foot checked out and was prescribed ice, anti-inflammatories and rest. Another way in which the Camino parallels life is in my difficulty in slowing down, but I knew the doctor was right.

Following an impressive 1.5k hill, which will forever change my perceptions of uphill trails back home, we checked into a nice little pension for two nights, meeting up with old Camino friends and new. The dinner table had representation from South Africa, Switzerland, the U.S., Cyprus and Canada. The night's party bordered on sacrilegious having been introduced to the local painkilling herbal fire water.

Every country has its Akvavit. Skoal!

The afternoon of our 37th day lead us through mossy tree tunnels with the sounds of birds and the water in a brook below the path.

It was a long day. I told C that walking 20k with one painful foot only equals 10k of pain, but my patience was wearing thin when he told me that the guidebook said we had another 4k left instead of the 1k I was expecting. I am sure we are not the only Camino couple subjected to a Brierly induced spat. Reality was on my side and 1k later we descended to Samos, home to a Benedictine monastery.

The monastery tour was lead by one of the ten residing monks, the youngest age 26 and the eldest 88. The complicating factor was the tour was only offered in Spanish and French. The guide monk was a comedian by nature, his jokes somehow lost in the slowness of our translation abilities.

In 1951 there was a fire, a common occurrence in these historical buildings, this one caused by an explosion in the monk's distillery. Artists in the 50's and 60's donated their talent and time to replace historical frescos, substituting some of the saintly figures with Hollywood icons such as Charlton Heston and Sophia Loren:

We retreated back to our better than adequate accommodation, which by the way, cost less than last night's less than adequate room, but hey, this is a pilgrimage requiring sacrifice, not a vacation.

Our last glimpse of the monastery toward sunset:

Galicia in the sunshine is a place of indescribable beauty. There was almost too much to take in for one day. The morning's views were green valley vistas, the mist settling in the distance.

I was thinking of other scenes of Camino beauty and the rainbows of the other day came to mind. I realized that this experience is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and how fortunate we are to be doing this together. And just then the Camino gave me one of its quirky coincidences, our initials together with the scallop shell on a sign:

A short time later, after an absence of many days, Naomi's name appeared again on an old wooden gate.

Although we had a lazy 9:30 morning start, the shadows were still good for pictures, this one looking like a pilgrim of old:

Our walk brought us to the pastures of the bottom of the valley:

We walked past an 800 year old chestnut tree providing nuts to the villagers for over three quarters of a century.

Mobile blogging lets me post about four or five pictures, so stay tuned for the afternoon of Day 37 tomorrow.