Naxos

Naxos sounds a little bit like Nauseous - which is what we were when we arrived.  Everyone who travels has a maddening airline/traffic/missed connection story - so I won't bore you too much.  Ours involved a ferry with a broken engine, multiple transfers to smaller and smaller boats on rougher and rougher seas, and my poor wife holding it together as our leisurely 4 hour tour of the islands turned into a 7 hour drama on the high seas.

But thankfully our hotel "greeter" George met us upon our belated arrival to Naxos - supposedly an island where many Greeks vacation.   It is a very dry island where the tap water is taboo but the open spigots in the streets are supposedly safe for consumption - no more stomach issues so I guess that is true.

We had four full days here, probably one more than we needed but part of our plan was to simply plunk and be.  The first day we rented the cutest convertible ever and toured the villages and ruins of the island - the spring of Zeus was at the end of a too-narrow road with no guard rails and treacherous drop-offs - luckily we met no traffic in either direction.  The villages were cute but a little sad as it was obvious many had seen better days.

Janine gets to drive

We had been told to flee Naxos town (aka Chora) during the heat of the day and we largely did.  The second day we decided on some alone time - Janine had found an exquisite bakery where she spent the better part of the day and I took the local bus down to some of the "good beaches" and rented a chair and  an umbrella.  The hypnotic lap of the waves and the relaxation of a good book in the shade made for a great afternoon.

On day 3, Janine finally got to rent an ATV - something she has wanted to do again ever since our Honeymoon 15 years ago.  We got the more powerful 300cc engine quad and went to the inland olive oil museum and later to another beach - the first time Janine spent any significant time on the beach during out whole trip - she's definitely a mountain person.

As mentioned, probably one more day than we needed - we had some fun on our last full day but it blended into repeats of past days.  We had our last(?) traditional Greek dinner on the second floor of a waterfront restaurant watching the sun set near the iconic Temple of Apollo.  It was the eve of our 15th anniversary and Janine continued her tradition of buying us tiramisu at her favorite bakery - we saved it for breakfast this morning to mark the actual day.

We are both ready to return to some routines, our home, and our dog.  A Sunday afternoon run with Jackomo is the first thing on our calendar.  But before that we must make the long journey home  -  starting with a hopefully uneventful boat ride back to Athens.  Tonight we stay on the outskirts in a port town called Rafina.  A short transfer tomorrow to catch the plane back to London - and then, because of timing, another overnight stay before our London/Portland/SF flight - sadly not business class.  How will I survive?

Between Heaven and Earth

Every time I looked up in Meteora Greece, I thought "the gods had a rock war."  The mountainous stones sitting upright in the valley were like nothing I'd ever seen before.  And the stones were the secondary reason we were here, the primary reason were the castle like monasteries atop six of them.

Somewhere around the 17th century, the monastic orders populating the caves in this land formalized their settlements into floating palaces in the sky.   Most of the material hauled up by ropes over the period of decades.  Today, a few monks and nuns still populated this magnificent structures but it is a thriving tourist business as well - although at 3 euro a visitor it's more of a boon for the town in the valley than the monasteries themselves.

Janine had heard of these and really wanted to make the four hour drive north from Athens to see these and hike between (some of) them.  I, willing to go along with most of her odd impulses, agreed and was glad that I did.  These buildings are designated as UNESCO World Heritage sites for a reason - although as I said in the opening, I was in awe of the landscape as much as edifices.

Today we have a LONG day of travel back to Athens - waiting at the port of Rafini for most of the afternoon - and then a 4 hour boat ride for our final adventure on the island of Naxos.  That's where I am now and I can say for all the niceties of the more modern ferries, I miss being able to go on an open deck - I feel like I've been on a very nice bus for the past 3.5 hours.

Santorini

We arrived by boat as all good Cretans should.  The massive ferry was much nicer than the ones I remember from island hopping 20+ years ago.   While only in second class, the extended Firepine family had scored front row seats in the boat to see our approach to the caldera of Santorini.

The houses of Santorini

In planning this trip, I had told the group - while I don't really care about re-visiting this island, we are somewhat required to go to Santorini if we are going to Greece.  Returning home without pictures of the blue and white cliffside houses would leave us feeling hollow and unworthy of social media. ;-)  It was also close to Crete and would provide a different flavor to the  trip.

It is a beautiful but incredibly touristy island.  The cruise ships and ferries are non-stop into the port and the sunset we witnessed from Oia was a site to bedhold both in terms of wondrous nature and the hordes of humanity clamoring on rocks for pink-tinted selfies.

THE CLASSIC Greek Picture

For me the highlight was probably the hike from Oia to Fira.  A 10k journey across the spine of the island full of sweeping vistas and rental properties of the rich and famous.  The ladies went shopping at the end.  Dan and Tyler rented an ATV to make their way home.  I managed to get the local bus to drop me at the beach in front of our remote house and went straight into the ocean before retiring to our patio for a well earned Mythos.

Tyler and Fiona with the ATV

I'm also happy the family made use of the few spare hours we had on our departure day to visit the ancient ruins of Akritori - the lost city of Atlantis.  It was the height of Minoan culture when the volcano at Thera blew in 1500 BC  - vaporizing many towns but burying Akritori to be discover 3.5 millenia later.

We then said our sad goodbyes. It was a great week traveling together.  The Firepines are off to visit family in England and we fly to Athens to continue our Greek Odyssey.

Legend of the Minotaur

We are just outside of Heraklion, Crete in a tiny town called Eskopi - other than having a cool Airbnb in the countryside, the highlight of this place is the local grocer who gives you shots of raki (the local grape hooch).

Jen and Janine at Knossos

One of the reasons we are here is it's proximity to Knossos - ruins of the ancient (2000 BC) Minoan culture - supposedly one of the first "empires" of Europe.  Janine, Jen, and I head there early this morning while Tyler, Fiona, and Dan did a Father's Day trip to a local beach with caves.

Minos is the legendary king who had Daedylus built the labyrinth and then put the half-bull / half-man Minotaur  (Minos = king, Taur = variation of bull) in the labyrinth to slay Athenian sacrifices - 7 boys and 7 girls every 7 years.  Later  the Athenian prince Theseus would carry some string into the maze, kill the monster, escape with Minos's daughter - there's a lot going on here with a cross-over episode with Daedylus and his kid Icarus.

Me with some Labrys (double-headed axes)

But the coolest piece of etymological data the I learned, that Labyrinth developed from the Labrys - the double headed axe that was the symbol of the Palace at Knossos.  The palace itself was massive for it's time with hundreds of rooms and 5 levels - an easy place to get lost.  From these two concepts, the double-axe logo and the complexity of the palace, it developed into the word Labyrinth - palace of the double axe.  In addition, the Minoan people held bulls sacred and had a passage ritual of grabbing the horns and flipping over the back of the bull - many were injured and killed in this process.  These ideas eventually merged into the myth of sacrificing young people to the Minotaur and the Labryinth of Crete.

The "Labyrinth" of Knossos

We head out tomorrow for the legendary blue and white houses of Santorini.

First Few Days in Greece

We are traveling with the Firepine Family - Daniel, Jennifer, Fiona, and Tyler.  Janine and Dan have been friends for more than 20 years.  Jen and Dan started dating about the same time Janine and I did.  Fiona was born the day I  flew to Switzerland for my Ironman - because of mechanical difficulties, my plane turned around and I got an extra day to see the newborn baby.  The kids are turning 14 and 13 this year and we jumped at the chance to spend some time with our old friends and their soon to be high schoolers.

Our Balcony in Chania

We arrived separately on the island of Crete but within 15 minutes of each other.  As with all long distance travel, their were some hiccups along the way but we eventually made it to our wonderful apartment in the old harbor of Chania (pronounced Ha-nia).   We immediately began wandering the city, taking lots of photographs, and trying to pronounce the few greek words that Fiona and I knew.

Our "landlord" Lia made some great recommendations, most of which we followed.  This meant great food and beautiful beaches.  Gramvousa was probably my favorite with sweeping views from the citadel above and clear blue waters on the beach below.  The dinner at the restaurant of the same name has so far been my favorite.  One of the local specials is a type of dolmade where the stuffing is but inside of zucchini flowers instead of using  grape leaves.  

Balos and Grambousa

We did an all day hike through the Samaria Gorge - most of us still have a few aches and pains two days later.  I also think I got a light case of food poisoning.  The highs and lows of travels.

I want to keep this short and interesting so I'll leave you with those highlights until I get to our next stop.

Tyler drinking from the stream

First World Miracle

Tomorrow we head to Greece. Today I make sure my Android phone can post to the Blog. Blogger App works on first try. Another miracle of St Rete?

The Voyage Home

Because we (wisely) chose not to walk all the way to Finisterre, we had a couple of days to burn as well as an already planned 2 day layover in Paris - so our journey home was a vacation in and of itself.

We left Santiago on Tuesday morning by Bus for the town of Porto, Portugal. We had a booking.com rental in a private apartment that was very reasonably priced compared to the unexpectedly expensive tourist town of Porto. We called our host Miguel by Janine's phone and then passed the phone to cabbie so he could explain the strange drop-off point - which the cabbie promptly got wrong. But we made it anyway and Miguel gave us a good lay of the land after marching us to the second (third in U.S.) floor of a riverside apartment building (always the second floor it seems). We promptly began exploring the myriad of churches and tiled decorated buildings of the town from where Port gets its name.

One of the more interesting excursions was the Libreria Lello - a hundred year old bookstore that may (likely) have inspired the Hogwarts library (J.K. Rowling evidently taught English in Porto).

We watched the sun set from above the city as we chatted with two twenty-somethings (one Portuguese and the other Spanish) about their next travel destinations.

While Janine and I ate our fair share of Tostada y Marmalada on the Camino, whenever we found a proper Patisserie I was rarely disappointed in the quality or the value. We lucked into another such venue in Porto. After indulging in cafes and pastries, Janine and I took different paths - her to explore the gilded world of the Church of Saint Francis and I to simply wander the streets and see what trouble I might find - very little other than getting an opinion on the best local Port cellars - which is where we headed next.

The Ferreiro Cellar was one of the oldest of the dozen or so Port cellars on the other bank of Porto (technically the city of Gaia). We learned a tad about the process and got a taste of the white and the tawny. The ruby we would taste by chance on our walk home - at a pop-up vendor outside the cathedral at the top of the two-tier bridge that spans the river Douro.

The Francesinha sandwich is probably the most memorable food from the Portugal trip - a kind of meat laden grilled cheese ladled with a tomato sauce. They also eat a lot of fava beans which were delicious with bacon (as is everything).

Another long bus ride back to Santiago was required to catch our flight to Paris. We made use of the evening to see the cathedral one more time and strangely enough the Botafumiero swung again - We are 3-0 in this regard.

The Paris layover was simply required because of Santiago flights. We have both been several times but I was excited to get in for a day and walk through all of the amazing gardens. Janine spent a few hours at a Louvre exhibit related to Christian Dior. We are staying at a hotel by the airport which will work out pretty well for our morning flight.

I look forward to coming home - albeit the word home is a bit fluid right now.

El Fin

note 0.0 km - ignore my hairline

A dreary morning of clouds and mist greeted us as we left our little room in Casa Luz in Lires. Only 14km (we thought) to our final, final destination of Fisterra (a.k.a. Finisterre a.k.a. The End of the Earth). The hiking was pleasant enough and we had our standard breakfast of cafe con leche y tostada to fuel us until lunch. We went through a handful of villages and performed the ritual of talking to the little old lady wanting to give directions.

Fisterra, like Muxia, is a peninsula. Its tip is in the south while Muxia's is in the north. They both have harbors on the east side and people go to the point or the west to watch sunset. One of Fisterra's claims to fame is its lighthouse - unfortunately located an additional 3km from the center of town. So we girded our loins for an extra 6km of walking that we had not planned on (Janine's knee is on fumes). But it was a beautiful walk to the 138 meter above sea level point and we found a wonderful table in the shade for the second best meal on the Camino (fresh bread, perfect avocado, seasonal pear and nectarine, regional cheese, and local chocolate and wine).

On our way back from our Lighthouse excursion to catch our bus to Santiago we ran across two pilgrims that we had left behind about 10 stages ago - one had been injured and was hoping to convince her hiking partner to go a little slower. She evidently recovered quickly and arrived in Santiago two days after us.

I'll likely do a little reflection in another post as well as check in from Portugal and Paris but this is my last official blog of my 2017 Camino. I'm done.

post script. Janine was really hurting on the walk to hotel upon our return to Santiago. I'm thankful we are not in the wilderness doing a 33km day towards the sea. St Rete is looking out for us.

Staring At the Sea

Muxia was a lovely small town on a peninsula with boats moored on the east side and beautiful sunsets on the west. A small chapel dominated it's craggy end point. This may have been the sight where St. James had a vision of the Virgin Mary. We managed to find a small restaurant and had some delicious seafood including razor clams which were new to both of us. Otherwise, the town seemed pretty dead for a Saturday night (Appropriate for the Death Coast - lots of shipwrecks here). We watched the sun set at 9:53 and promptly went back to our room for bed.

We broke our normal routine this morning and ate breakfast at our starting point instead of walking for an hour or so first. This was critical as there were no services and just a few very small villages between Muxia and our stopping point of Lires. Despite "going backwards" from most on the trail, we only met about 40 hikers today - most of whom are problem pilgrims, some who likely hiked all the way (4 days) from Santiago. But our numbers are dwindling.

Lires is on a river about a kilometer inland from the sea and has one bar, two restaurants, and about 6 places to stay. It will be interesting to see how many turn out for dinner tonight - supposedly the bar/restaurant at the top of the hill is where most people go to watch the sun set over the ocean.

It was a nice day a leisurely pace, a fair amount of walking, a lot of reading, and hand-washed laundry. The latter reminded me that one of my sock liners may never be worn again this trip - tomorrow is our last true day of the Camino - unless something changes.

Change of Plans

I mentioned yesterday we had new plans. Canadian Sean, who recommended the awesome Casa Marcela (see yesterday's post), arrived in Campostela a few days before us - by doing what seems like an impossible 60km day followed by a 50km day. He did this so he could do part of the Finisterre route. Usually this road is an additional three or four days of walking to the sea - Sean probably could have done this in one long day. Instead he was given the advice to walk from Muxia (another seaside destination) to Finisterre. This path is a slightly long up-and-down one day walk or two short one day walks - surprisingly our over-achieving friend split it into two days. The reasoning behind doing this route is that the walk to the sea is "more hiking" whereas the seaside trail is an "enjoyable decompression". Hearing this from more than one person, we decided to heed this timely advice.

sunset in Muxia

The question now: what to do with our extra 2 days? My immediate solution: Bus down to Portugal. I had already mapped it out as it was another potential "bail the Camino" scenarios. We currently sit on a slow bus to Muxia and hope to see a glorious sunset tonight over the Atlantic Ocean. Upon our return to Santiago, we will catch a fast bus down to Porto Portugal, a town recommended by Tripadvisor and at least one Portuguese hiker I spoke with. Two nights there and then our multiple day trip home (2 day layover in Paris). We are anxious to see Jackomo who has been in boot camp - we've been getting videos from his trainer and he seems to be doing well and having fun with all the new mental exercise.

The only other news today was a really nice chat with a nun from Ireland. She was running the chapel attached to the Pilgrim's office and offered to debrief us on our Camino experience. Jennifer was a lovely woman who was wonderful at sharing her faith and respecting the varied spirituality of others. She shared a beautiful story of the child Saint from her hometown of Cork. Supposedly Little Nelly of Holy God was allowed to receive the Sacraments before her untimely death at age 5 because of her deep understanding of the faith and her holy outlook and demeanor.

Quote for Reflection from Jennifer:
Ephesians 3:17-19

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

The finish line?

Walking in the dark for the first time this morning - gray skies, in a forest, official sun rise not for another 30 minutes. Many of our compatriots started with headlamps every day. We saved this fun for last. And only so that we could get our destination, the cathedral of Santiago, by 11 am. We had high hopes that the noon mass would include the swinging incense burner known as the Botafumiero.

It drizzled on us most of the morning, very similar to our first day on the Camino - a wet pair of bookends for our journey. We wondered if we would see many others from the trail in the church or in the square. The answer was almost everyone: The seminarians, Padre Keith, John and Kathy, the two girls from Villafranca, British Steve, Canadian Sean, John the Interpeter, Mark and Joanne (whom I had kinda forgotten from pre-Burgos days), and even Marie made an appearance after having already gone to Finisterre and back. Of recent memory, the only people we haven't run across yet are S.J. & Scott, Kelly Montessori, and the Unsinkable Molly Brown.

As an aside, you'll note I have quite a few nicknames going on. They just help if you haven't gotten a name. Here are some more:
Potbelly and wife
Italian f**kers (quite literally, in the next room)
Oklahomans
Oscar Hollywood and family
Knee braces
Hungarian Donkey People
St France
White hair hippy
Surly youth
Italian Horde
The Germans
Koreander
Irish lasses
Kat from Catalina
Irish Sean
The other Seattleite

Back to our story...

Janine was happy to have completed her 500 mile journey - especially grateful that she managed to keep going despite a bad knee (and blisters and back problems and shin splints). We rewarded with the Botafumiero and getting mass from Padre Keith. A second reward came in the reward of some timely advice - A Michelin restaurant named Casa Marcella which was just opening for lunch Oysters, Mojito Melon, Cucumber soup with almonds, Ahi with Fig, Hake in Red Sauce, Duck skewers, and Passion Fruit Sorbet - sorry no pictures!)

Botafumiero in Action

My shorter journey (we'll call it 400 miles) was a mixture of rewards and struggles. The injured ankle dominated my first two weeks and guided me off onto another adventure - I'm so happy I broke away because it put me in such a better place for the last 300 km of the walk. No big insights though - I think I'm fairly introspective most of the time and no big aha's. It's probably left me a little more relaxed going into the school year, although all of that may be undone by amount of trains, planes, and automobiles that are going to happen in the next two week.

Tomorrow, a day without our packs and a bus ride to the sea - our travel plans are taking new shape.

The best laid plans...plus hilarious post script

The plan was to get up late, take our time, get to Arca (Pedrouzo on some maps) for a late lunch about 2, and then kill about 5 hours waiting for the 7 o'clock mass. We'd then walk another hour (still light) to the crossroads of Amenal and its lone hotel. This would leave us about four hours of walking into Santiago tomorrow and guarantee we'd have plenty of time to make the noon mass and hopefully see the Botafumiero - the gigantic swinging incense burner.

Arca Mass - note scallop behind altar

Not sure how the second part of the plan will turn out but the killing time has not really been an issue so far - very leisurely lunch ended about 3:45. We walked across town to the fancy hotel and sat down in the garden for an ice cream. A crossword and a memory reconstruction later (we are trying to remember the first half of our trip), and it's almost 6 o'clock. Despite our slightly disheveled pilgrim look, the staff here doesn't seem to be shooing us away so we may stay until just before mass. (We did also order a coffee after an hour).

The walking weather this morning was incredibly pleasant - we left late enough to avoid the rain that many other poncho laden pilgrims did not. Because we had a reservation at the end of the day and I knew we'd just be killing time after lunch, I settled into a pleasant stroll and the mantra that "we'd get there when we get there" (until about the last 2 km). I met a nice Spanish family during first breakfast (while Janine was still getting ready) and we had a nice chat with a Colombian on the road. The crowds are slightly annoying to Janine as all the noise is invading her psychic space. I'm trying to view them as part of a giant river heading towards Santiago - If I pick up my feet, they'd carry me on in.

I do believe León to Sarria may be the best part of this walk if ones time was limited - If someone didn't care about the Campostela, I'd say skip the last 5 days. Perhaps the first time you do it, the extra excitement that builds overcomes the crowds and the commercialism. But the towns and the scenery seem a little less interesting during the last 100k. Granted I've seen over 500k of scenery so far - I'm a bit jaded.

Post-script: whole plan worked pretty well until they gave away our room despite us calling and saying to NOT give away our room. Ten minutes later, room magically appeared. Another Camino miracle.

Post script 2 cause it's still cracking me up.
Quietest food in mass: Potato chips in a foil bag. Better idea: give to a 5 year old. Think I can do at least a three minute bit on this.
Our father...crinkle crinkle...heaven.... crunch crunch ... Thy name ... Crinkle crinkle crunch crunch ... Kingdom come ... Plastic toy drops on floor... Be done

A pretty good day

Janine wanted to get a jump on the locusts that descended in Sarria so we got on the road at 7:30 - late for a Camino start but early given how far we had to go and the mild weather. The new pilgrims are actually great but it gets a little tedious managing your walking with tens of people in front and behind.

We immediately struck up a conversation with Scott and his daughter S.J. from California. Two super nice people with strong ties to their church - Scott's a pastor and one of the other daughters helps to run a church in my hometown of Winston-Salem NC. We spent most of the morning chatting with them and were half way through our day before we knew it. We parted ways as they were considering a side-trip at the half-way point. We moved on through our 2011 stop of Palas de Rei and onto the roadside Inn called Casa Domingo - likely to be our favorite stop on the trip.

After a little reading and my late afternoon nap, I retired to a hammock with the public-use guitar and serenaded myself and passing pilgrims for an hour. A true communal dinner was at 7:30 at our table had two young Italians, Luka and Allessandro, and Kelly, a Montessori teacher from Florida whom we'd met a few days earlier. It was one of the best pilgrims meals we've had but the best part of the day, possibly the trip, was what followed.

Janine had been hoping to see a Queimada, which is a ceremonial fire drink usually done for winter parties or Halloween in Galicia. Upon our arrival, she noticed they would do one but at a certain cost per person and a minimum of 10 people. She secretly arranged with the bartender that she would simply pay for 10 people and treat the entire dinner party to this specialty of the house. After dinner, the Spaniards began singing and playing the guitar so most everyone stuck around. About a half hour after dessert, a ceramic bowl smelling of grain alcohol (although I think it was closer to grapa) was placed at the end of one of the tables. Sugar, lemon rind, and coffee beans were added. The windows were all shut up, the lights were turned off, and the bowl was set on fire. After some ceremonial stirring, music similar to Night on Bald Mountain began playing and the bartender appeared in Saint James Pilgrim garb. He then began a non-sensical chant in Spanish and began raising the burning liquid high in the air and pouring it back into the bowl. After several minutes, the lights came back on and we were all served this liquid - for some of us, still burning in the cup.

Queimada

Eventually Janine was asked to don the Saint James outfit and read the English translation of the brewmasters chant. A few of us had a second cup of good cheer when we suddenly noticed that it was once again 10 o'clock at night and time to retire.

Post-Script/Next Day:
I didn't manage to get this one out on time. It's now the next day where nothing has happened by comparison. Janine is still struggling with her knee and both of us are counting the kilometers and towns until we get a rest in Santiago. I have only 3 pictures from today and two of them are from leaving Casa Domingo.

The ants go marching 2 by 2...

Upon leaving our lovely farmhouse in Rente this morning, we were greeted by a troop of 50 Italians led by several nuns and a priest with a bull horn. This set the tone for the day. Sarria is the starting point for about 30% of those who get a certificate for the Camino and we were about an hour from Sarria and getting a late start. Most of the morning was passing hordes or being passed by hordes.

I re-read a blog post of mine from the 2011 trip and it seemed to indicate we noticed more pilgrims at this point, but neither one of us remembered the numbers being so great until the last day - this really doesn't make sense, they should have been with us for five days. We think because of our starting place each day, we managed to avoid most of them on the road.

Tonight we do the first and probably only repeat accommodation for the trip - a reasonable small hotel in the nowhere cow town of Gonzar. Interestingly, most of the pilgrims we have met over the last few days seem to be staying here - some at our suggestion.

We think we have our routes and accommodations mapped out through the end - then we rest for a day before going on to the sea.

That's all for today. I need to stop doing these before bed as I'm just exhausted after 9.

There is no cheating

I already posted my run from Triacastela to Sarria on Facebook so I'll just mention here and move on to a somewhat related topic. We had seen people running along the Camino on our last trip and I thought it was an interesting idea. We discovered the 5 euro portage network for our backpacks a few weeks back. I knew I wanted to somehow liven up my walking routine. The stage was set for my half marathon (almost). Janine left about 7 am with her full pack. I ate a chocolate filled croissant (the only food I could find in this sleepy hamlet) and was on my way at about 8:30 with just my water bottle and a few essentials in my slowly decaying rock'n'roll marathon free goodie backpack.

I passed Janine after about an hour and a half and finished about 30 minutes late. It was a great run on roads and trails with a few amazing vistas. I especially liked running by pilgrims that I knew and greeting them by name as a whizzed by. The hips were feeling the distance and all the previous days of hiking during the last 5k but overall it was super to be running again after my ankle injury and more than a month since my last run.

View from my run

I wondered as a I ran - which is harder, running this distance or walking it with full pack. Honestly I think it's about the same, although I imagine that many non-runners that I passed would never think about running that distance. To some extent, it's what you are used to.

Did I cheat today? Sending my pack ahead to unburden myself? I feel fairly certain in saying "There is no cheating". The Camino is what it means to you. Whether you walk the last 100 km as required OR walk some other arbitrary distance (from St Jean or Roncevalles or Irun or Somport or Jerusalem or Paris or...). If you need to take a bus part of the way or do it in parts or take a boat (which was recommended on the Northern way), all of this is okay. What does the Camino mean to you? It seems it should mean more than that piece of paper that you get at the end. Each pilgrim took the time to do something difficult that very few other people chose to do and maybe found some insight along the way. The distance, the mode, and path are all relative. The only person who can say you cheated is you.

P.S. When I skipped out on the Meseta, I certainly cheated myself of a really long, hot, boring part of the trip and chose to sit on the beach for a few of those days. I'm totally okay with that - in fact, I think it was an incredibly important part of my Camino experience.

Engineering Marvels - Ancient and Modern

I sit in the dark as most of my bunk mates are trying to doze off before 10. It's still light outside but many of them may start rustling in the dark at 5. Janine will be up at 6, I will try to sleep until 7. Tomorrow I send my pack ahead and will run the Camino. The distance is about 13 miles and most of it will be on pavement. I needed something to shake things up a bit since it seems like I am in this for the long haul - probably no more side trips. Since my rest on the coast and the recuperation of my ankle, the walking has been, for the most part, more enjoyable.

Not much to report today other than big dogs (see last post) and pimientos de padrones (once for lunch and once for dinner). Triacastela is a one street town that despite having probably a dozen places to stay is full up for the night. Starting tomorrow in Sarria the competition for beds really begins as it is the point where you must start if you want to receive a compostela (the certificate for having walked the Camino). We have about 6 days of walking/running left.

One of the things I was contemplating yesterday is how easy we can become jade
d to wonders all around us. Certainly the first things that comes to mind on this journey is another beautiful church, another darling town, another stunning landscape - been there, done that. But in particular yesterday I was noticing a flyover above one of the villages. To most of the pilgrims, I imagine this modern convenience was somehow in conflict with their amble through the medieval countryside. However I thought, if we had never seen structure before we would be amazed: Smooth rectangular columns rising 100 or more feet in the air supporting a massive bridge bearing the weights of gigantic speeding vehicles. It was an engineering marvel, as is my phone and my wireless keyboard and and my microwave oven and my electricity grid and my paved roads and my indoor plumbing. There is so much amazing stuff all around us that we are so accustomed to and we seldom give it a second thought. I am trying to give it a second thought. Nuff said.

Misty Watercolored Memories

[Date above will be one day off- couldn't get weefee (wifi) last night]

I mentioned briefly, before I passed out from exhaustion, that yesterday was the first day the we trod ground which we had covered before in 2011.

Previously we had started in Ponferrada (named for its Iron Bridge) but at the bus station on the Santiago side of the city. The city itself with its impressive castle and beautiful basilica is a mix of both ancient and modern. Here, we ran into again, a young man from France who had rescued both a dog and a cat along the way and was pulling them in a bicycle pull-behind that he had converted into a pedi-cab contraption. He then sang a sweet song in the basilica as he played his tiny guitar. These are the strange and lovely oddities of the Camino.

On the far side of the city, we picked up our former path. I remembered one unusual tunnel through a school but not much else. At lunch time we arrived a Cacabelos, our first night's stay in 2011 and were blown away by our incorrect memory of the town. We thought is was a very small town without much there, but as we walked in we realized it was sizeable with quite a bit going on. Perhaps it was the weather (it was raining and dreary in 2011) but other than the place we stayed, most of our memories were blank or highly questionable.

Later in the day did not yield much better results. The only memory I had of the road into our destination of Villafranca was finding a hiking stick in a field - we took a slightly different route this time so no repeat adventures there - plus I found a hiking stick by the road about 3 weeks ago. Villafranca itself yielded a few more accurate memories, including the location near the edge of the city where I had to knock on the door and beg for an emergency bathroom for my wife - it's now a hostal.

near O Cebreiro - do not remember the market

Today was the big climb up to O Cebreiro, definitely Janine's favorite town on the Camino. It's perched at 1300 meters with stunning vistas on two sides. The tiny church is special and is associated with at least one miracle. We remembered a few things along the way today and actually remembered our destination quite well, but as the title of this suggests, I'm just amazed at how fickle and pliable one's memory can be - the fact that Janine had the same experience was helpful in validating the phenomena.

All of this reminds me of my return to Hungary a few years back. I lived in the town of Jaszbereny for almost a year. There was a church in the center of town that I probably passed three times a week. But upon my return, I only vaguely remembered the church and certainly did not remember it's prominence or orientation in the square. The tenuous nature of memory is a lesson in humility.

postscript: restaurant on next stage remembered but not in correct location or with correct surroundings. Contained the giant dog below begging for scratches.

Your Way is lifting me Higher...

the highest point?

Today we hit the highest point on the Camino. It should have been at the Cross of Iron although technically it happened 4 km later at an unmarked turn with a panoramic landscape. The Cruce de Ferro was a giant pile of rocks, possibly that started in Roman times, with a telephone pole at the top and a un-impressively small iron cross on top of that. The custom is to take a rock, ideally as large as you can carry, and leave it at the top of the pile. I think you are supposed to leave your troubles behind here, I chose to leave my aspirations.

Unlike the walk we did in Italy, the Camino doesn't have nearly as much climbing but the 1500 meter peak we reached wasn't trivial - however it was generally a gentle climb. Unlike the descent on the back side. Today we dropped about 900 meters over the course of about 10k - far more than we've gone up over the same distance at any other part of our journey. All the downhill just about injured my good leg. Luckily Molinaseco had a chilly stream to soak my weary bones in.

I'm already into the next day now and it's bedtime again. Both legs survived a hard 30k day. Went through Ponferrada this morning so we are starting to see things from our first Camino. More on this later, another hard 30 tomorrow with the last big climb up O Cerebreiro. Must sleep...zzzz

St James Day

We limped out of Astorga slightly refreshed after a day's rest. Today would be special - it was St. James Day. Unbeknownst to most St. James the Apostel and Santiago refer to the same person. For some reason, Diego is the Spanish version of James and Santiago is some variation of Saint Diego. The walk was pleasant but unremarkable other than a side-trip to the cute little town, Castrillo de Los Polvazares, that was completely locked down despite being a well-known tourist destination.

But we had high hopes for our destination of Rabanal Del Camino. A town with Camino in it's name. Certainly they would have something special planned for our day.

The story of St. James has many variations but it goes something like this. James Zebedee or James the Greater (there were two apostles named James) left the Middle East to spread the word as instructed by Jesus. His time in Spain was cut short by a vision of the Virgin Mary telling him to return to Jerusalem. Upon his return, he was martyred. (There is some moral here about listening to visions of the Virgin Mary). His body was then put into a boat and at some point arrived near the northwest corner of Spain. The body eventually travelled a hundred miles inland.

Santiago

Around 900 A.D., a farmer found some bones in a field illuminated by a bunch of bright stars. The Catholic hierarchy use their post dark ages CSI skills to verify the authenticity of the bones. A church grew up around the bones, a pilgrimage route to see the holy relics flourished, and the rest is, both figuratively and literally, history. The full name of the city containing the church is Santiago de Campostela which means Saint James of the Field of Stars.

Back to our destination... We immediately stumbled upon a sweet but crumbling church that was having a special lunchtime Mass with five Benedictine priests presiding and a cute little old man playing a fife and a drum. Later in the evening, there was vespers - vespers is usually when nuns or monks sing for about 30 minutes. Tonight, the vespers centered around Santiago (who I would later learned is called Jacob in German). The same five priests led the singing with the rest of us stumbling along in Latin (nunc et sempre means now and forever - we sang that along). Most of the priests spoke English (and German, as I would also later learn) and they would occasionally address the group in English. Father Jeremiah spoke first in Spanish about the legend of Santiago and the Stone Cow that had brought him to Spain. Or so I thought. He said "Barca" which means Boat and not "Vaca" which means Cow - those Spanish speakers out there may forgive the mistake as they DO sound somewhat similar. His English translation resolved my puzzlement.

After the service, there was a small party put on by the priests where we were able to talk to Father Jeremiah a bit. He and two others were on "Home Leave" and just visiting. He had help start the Monastery in Rabanal some 15 years ago as well as revived the practice of having a celebration on July 25th. We could have been many places on this day, but we felt we had landed in a special place.

Tomorrow, to the highest point on the Camino!

The Way

We left the small town of Mazarife at about 7, well behind the crazy Slovenians who were doing 40k each day and rising at 4 to walk in the dark for 2 hours. In addition to not knowing how these people were physically doing this with the size packs they had, it seemed to turn the Camino into a new level of endurance sport. I met a lass from Ireland later in the day who was doing 45k a day. To each his own.

One of the highlights of the day was an impressive medieval bridge in the town of Hospital de Orbigo. A local legend, which Janine mentioned in a Facebook post, tells of a knight that showed his love for a young women by fighting everyone who crossed the bridge for a month. It can all be spun in a very romantic and chilvarious manner, but the guy could also been a violent stalker unwilling to take no for an answer - no wonder the woman chose not to return his affections.

I'm currently reading a book about Isabella (Columbus's sponsor) and the motivations and back stories of all the characters in question can be seen through many lenses. Was Isabella's older brother really concerned that his daughter (possibly) Juana become the queen, or did he feel slighted by Isabella's opposition or was he being manipulated by his possible sexual abuser, Juan Pacheco. Even with the facts laid out clearly before us as to the events, the intents of those involved are often complicated.

street view of the way bridge maybe

On the lighter side, Janine also mentioned the bridge we crossed was probably the one where Martin Sheen lost his pack in the Movie, The Way. If you've not seen this, it's an enjoyable night-sea journey film that does a reasonable job of capturing the spirit of the Camino - unexpected friendships, loud and crowded albergues, long walks through endless fields dotted with small villages, and some resolve to the personal demons that plague each of the main characters. Some of the mundanities such as blisters, doing laundry, and trying to get directions in a foreign language are left out. I agreed the bridge looked similar but felt the river below was not fast enough and that, if they were attempting to stay true the progress along the way, the bridge would have to be in the first few stages - much closer to Pamplona. Strangely, the Internet did not immediately yield an answer. Eventually I found that in order to find a fast enough river to meet the criteria of the script, the film crew left the Camino and used an ancient bridge just below the Itioz reservoir. I pulled up a Street View from Google Earth on a nearby bridge - it seemed like it might be the one.

It's now a day later and we are still in Astorga - another town with a major Cathedral that we will check out later today. It's a day of rest for Janine who has been walking non-stop since I last saw her. Tomorrow, we attack the hill leading into Rabbanal, just short of the highest point of the walk.