SoloWalk2024

Today’s blogpost was going to be no words and just photos of the monastery…..but I had such a wonderful sleep in that ^^ bunk….and when I woke there was a massive conversation to catch up with on the kids’ chat….including the message: This will surely make the blogpost.

So, yes. Words.

Here’s my reply to the kids:

Mother Superior has just woken up in her monastery bunk (actually) and thought something had gone wrong with her phone as she scrolled back and back and back and back some more to find the first message she hadn’t seen. She started reading as the bells tolled 8 and the quarter past dong has just sounded now. She laughed and laughed – actual out loud laughing until tears were rolling down her cheeks and she felt so happy and so far away and missing everyone so much and so excited to be coming home. Almost replied to the punctuation comment and breathed a sigh of relief that I left it! Wasn’t going to write a blog post today but I might just screen shot this conversation 🤣

To clarify…or rather to justify first…the scrolling back and back and back etc was no exaggeration. I just counted the messages – there were 123!! And once I started typing they resumed thick and fast.

And the clarification:

Micaiah was cheeky, but not wrong – I almost did!

So there…words in the blogpost. Now for the pics. For those of you who came here with me the first time, you will be surprised – the restoration is phenomenal.

When the rain let off for a short while in the late afternoon I nipped outside for some more pics…

Yesterday evening I was alone in the church – tonight it was totally packed and they brought in extra chairs and still there were people standing. Just before the throng arrived I did a quick check crazy sketch of where we had to wait and then someone appeared as I took the photo.

I got to sit close enough to touch them!

ABSOLUTELY AMAZING EVENING

I loved Sobrado the first time I came here. I walked around the complex imagining beautiful music being created here, even as water dripped from the walls that shone luminous with moss.

When I didn’t know if I would manage all the hills on the Camino Francés I picked this out as a place to spend some days if I needed to fill in time. When I was planning The Original Route From Almería, I had tacked on a week to the time I thought I needed to both serve as wiggle room in case something went wrong and hopefully for a few days to relax at the Sobrado Monastery at the end of the walk. How grateful I am to be here, having managed to walk all the way to Santiago and faster than expected. I am especially grateful that I am not here having had to “give up”/“downgrade plans”/accept even less than what I had hoped for. So grateful.

I love the hustle and bustle of Santiago, of pilgrims arriving, of people meeting up, of tourists, of interesting places to eat…and indeed today as I wandered around I kept bumping into people I had spent some time with – a young guy who compared his three month walk from his home in Switzerland to his time doing compulsory military service, an empty nester van dweller from Texas, a bubbly expressive engaging young Italian girl….these ones stopped to chat for a while – a few others just exchanged smiles of recognition. And the DutchKiwi couple sent me their ETA so I was waiting with video in hand to capture them walking into Plaza Cervantes…

…where they were going to become part of our family tradition and celebrate at Casa Manolo.

However, after waiting in the queue for over an hour and a half and with time running out before I needed to get to the bus station, we decided to relinquish our place and go elsewhere.

I made it to the bus just in time, which in turn delivered me to Sobrado just in time to attend vespers…

…and by the time I’d had a shower, done a great pile of washing and eaten dinner just before 9pm, I managed to just catch Compline.

Then I was in for a real treat. I felt I’d been rushing through the afternoon and here I was at the monastery, but was going to have to wait until tomorrow to go into the magnificent church…except that the iron gate to the cloister that leads to the church was still open despite a sign saying it would be locked at 9pm. So I went for a wee visit. No one else was there. I felt very small in the enormous space. A little song left my lips and echoed around and grew in volume, bouncing off the walls which are no longer green – it was such a special few minutes.

While I enjoy Santiago, for now, I am very content to be out in the countryside, soaking up the ambience of a place created for worship through service, and simply resting. How fortunate I am.

Just before 7

Just before 8 I headed down the road to the Pilgrim Office. I knew I was not eligible for a Compostela, but I did want to ask for a stamp in my journal. One Malaysian girl had been waiting since 7:30. She had heard the first ten people would get a ticket to lunch at the Posh Parador and she wanted to be one of them.

By 9am, opening time, there were more than the ten.

The security guard called me in and asked if I had filled out the form online. No, I explained as I showed him my journal-credential, I am not eligible for a Compostela, because I do not have an official credential.

Are you a pilgrim?

Where did you start walking?

How far have you walked?

Do you WANT a Compostela if it’s possible?

It seemed a bit rude to say I don’t care for the certificate but I’d love a lunch ticket, so I said yes…and reiterated that there are rules that have to be followed. He insisted I should get one, and filled in all my details on the computer.

When I got to the issuing desk, I apologised and said I understood I was not able to receive a Compostela and the guy oohed and aahed over my journal and said it was clear I had walked and of course I could have a certificate.

9:30am and I met my brother-in-law and sister-in-law for churros con chocolate at our favourite little spot.

After a great catchup, we parted ways for a while, so I could attend the mass and do lunch.

The system has changed since the other time I had the opportunity to have this meal. Now, instead of being hustled through the hotel to the staff cafeteria and helping yourself at the extensive buffet, you are seated with other patrons and food is brought to the table, far more food than we could eat.

It was a great surprise to then bump into bil and sil again and spend the rest of the afternoon together until they needed to be on a bus to the airport.

At that point the day deteriorated a little!

When I had checked in the owner had charged me more than she had quoted, but I was in a hurry to get to the cathedral and so I had paid rather than lose my bed. Now I had found her quote so I was ready to fight for the principle. Quite the battle ensued…and at the time of writing this was ongoing!

In the meantime I scoped out alternative accommodation for other nights.

Now I get to share a bunk with someone who clearly thinks it is fine to move my raincoat and drape their stuff over the whole bunk!! At least I’ll be out of here in the morning. And it was a great most-of-the-day.

I know, I know, I wasn’t meant to finish until the 17th – and even though I have made it to Santiago, I haven’t quite completed the walk yet. I still have a couple of kilometres to go to get to the cathedral. But yes, I am much closer than I expected to be.

It’s just that from the very first step it was dismal and drizzly again, and when it’s raining you might as well be walking as sitting in the pokey little room I was heading to.
My legs were working like a machine and so I decided there would be no photos and I would just walk. When I caught up with a lady right at this spot, and seeing as it was no longer pouring, I asked her to take a picture:

When we took off again, although we were keeping pace exactly with each other, we were not walking together. At the end of the path that avoided the last big town, O Pedrouzo, we were in for a shock. We had to make a right turn and a little farther ahead were at least fifty people, including no less than thirty of them toting umbrellas…to the left bearing down on us were even more, the vast majority of them all wearing identical blue ponchos. We both thought the solitude was about to disappear and we were both ready to change gears to fiesta mode. But we were in for another surprise. We got stuck between the two big groups and found ourselves still walking in silence.

Soon after this I started wondering if I might walk all the way to Santiago today. I wouldn’t know until I got closer, because it would depend on how the legs were holding up…I had planned on staying at Monte do Gozo, just 5km out from Santiago at a huge accommodation complex where we stayed on our first camino. I remembered what an exuberant feel the place had as everyone partied and looked forward to finishing the next day. And I realised I was hoping my legs would be ok, because I was feeling contemplative and wanted to be somewhere quieter. As has happened on numerous occasions on this camino, suddenly tears were streaming down my cheeks. All the feels! I’ll probably save the bulk of what I was thinking about for my wee bookish project…but a little bit of it is that now I was feeling intensely grateful – grateful to be here, grateful to be healing, grateful for kids supporting me growing, grateful for older voices giving advice, grateful for friends, grateful to Rob for gifting me this opportunity.

In the past this chapel has been closed when we have passed, but today it was open.

I’m not fond of statues in churches, but something about this one turned the eye taps on again. And a man, who came to stand next to me sobbed as well.

By now I was really hoping I could avoid the party atmosphere at the aptly named Mount of Joy, but there was still 5km to put in before I’d know and anything could happen in that distance.

When I got to the church at Lavacolla it looked like mass was about to begin.

I knelt down (Catholics make kneeling both easy and normalised!) and the tears kept flowing. I sat (and stood and sat and stood and sat – you stand to pray, stand for readings and stand whenever everyone else does too) and listened and participated when I could (I can do the alleluias, the Lord’s Prayer, bits of the apostles’ creed, forever and ever amen, passing the peace, a few of the responses, especially the guided ones – quite a bit more than I used to be able to – oh and the crossing yourself)….and I felt peace wash over me.

The sit-down had rested my feet, but the rain hadn’t stopped and so I set off up the last hill.

It was probably the crowd of people, but there was a palpable sense of being part of something so much bigger than yourself.

I had started wondering if I would stop for a meal at Monte do Gozo and then make a final push in to Santiago, but I just kept walking. I was a bit uncertain about getting to Santiago without a reserved bed, but decided to give it a shot. Give us this day our daily bed, I paraphrased seeing as I already had my daily bread in my backpack. I would turn up and ask if there was a bed for me and I would be told “Tonight there is, but there is nothing tomorrow. In fact, we are full until next Saturday.”
All along the way people were (legitimately) celebrating and stopping to take photos at the SANTIAGO sign and the Templar Pilgrim statue and in front of pretty flowers and the Octopus House…..I just kept walking. I had made my own little pilgrimage to the wall where we have gone each time we have come this way.

28km…just a few more steps to go

The 8km to Arzua passed quickly – another solitary walk apart from the short time that I caught up and overtook an American family. This is the fourth time I’ve walked from Arzua and it ended up being a reflective day as various memories were kindled. Nothing deep or especially meaningful, just a whole lot of gratitude.

Making a new memory outside the albergue where Jaala celebrated her 18th birthday…

What possessed me to buy a kilo each of yoghurt and muesli? As it got heavier and heavier on my back I kept reminding myself it was a good idea and I’ll be pleased tomorrow when I get to eat before walking and already have lunch organised too! Very useful on what I expect to be the second-longest walk of this Camino.

I saw things today I must have walked past before, but never noticed…a few times I’ve noticed that without the responsibility of looking after children as I walk, I am far more aware of my surroundings.

That’s probably a good thing from a safety point of view. A few people have commented that they feel very safe here and walk in places and at times that they would not at home.

I have had just one situation that made me uncomfortable. I do not believe I was in any danger and can think of a number of explanations for what happened.

It was just before sunrise on a day when I had set out without having breakfast. Directly ahead on the path was a little stone cottage looking very welcoming with an orange glow emanating from the window and open door. As I got closer I noticed an older man sitting on the stone bench beside the door having his morning cigarette. As is the custom, we greeted each other, and I proceeded to go inside for a Cola Cao. Mr Cigarette turned out to be the proprietor and he came and served me when he had finished his fag.

After about five minutes he closed the door and came and stood near my table. Most probably he was just keeping the rain out or feeling cold, but it didn’t stop me feeling uncomfortable. My mind went into overdrive, wondering if the other guys had left the albergue yet and how long it might be before they passed by, noticing an open window, checking where I’d put my poles….I had seen a Compostela on the wall, so I asked Mr Cigarette if it was his (now I had his name given that he claimed it was) and I got him talking about how many and which Caminos he had done. That gave me time to down my chocolate and then make an exit. I am certain there was absolutely no ill intent, and at the same time it seemed prudent to take note of the discomfort and remove myself from the situation.

But today was about remembering happy memories, admiring vegetable gardens (which I didn’t take any photos of) and putting one foot in front of the other.

The “buen camino” greeting has largely disappeared and people seem to be hurrying. Before I’d filled my pack with food I had been wondering about walking farther today – but in the end I stopped as planned and put my feet up for the afternoon in the hope of easing the soreness. I am clearly pushing the tendons to their limit – or maybe just beyond. But tomorrow will be Walking Day Number 59 and on WDN 60 I hope to finish,

WET is the word for the day.

Very early on I started paying close attention, because I knew I was not going to be taking many photos; there would not be a visual record to remind me of what had happened when I came to write the blogpost.
It rained. All day. Drizzle. Heavy drizzle. Big raindrops being blown from the trees, landing with a loud plop on your jacket hood. Drizzle. More drizzle. Incessant drizzle.

Your scope of vision is significantly reduced, framed by that jacket hood with its peak poking out. I remembered on the Via de la Plata when we had ten days straight of rain that I found myself guessing how long it would take until a raindrop on the peak would drop off. I refrained from that game today.

I looked down a lot. As soon as the path left the village it was well-packed dark brown earth underfoot, slightly softened by the overnight rain. After a few hundred meters little stones started appearing and they turned to bigger stones which eventually became big enough and were raised enough to collect water between them and those smooth rounded stones in turn became long slippery rocks. Then there would be a little hamlet and there would be some intentional paving, sometimes with long rectangular slabs running down the middle of the street and crazy paving to either side, other times just the crazy paving or some poorly poured concrete or little cobblestones. This pattern repeated over and over in various configurations, and then some mud got thrown into the mix as well and decent sized puddles. So I definitely did not take photos then.

To take a photo you have to undo your jacket zip (or reach through the open pit zip), open the bumbag, extricate the phone, turn it on – and because your fingers are wet your finger print does not work and you have to key in your passcode and then finally you are ready to snap a picture which is not going to be very good because the light is as low as the clouds and your phone is getting wet and quite frankly that got old really quickly and I made a conscious decision to just walk. I had to go through that rigmarole to get the picture at the top of this post, because each time we have walked this way we have taken a photo there and I couldn’t not this time. And I couldn’t not take this:

I had taken one photo early on when I could still be bothered, just so I would remember:

As I walked my nose was variously assaulted by cow aroma and tickled with eucalyptus scent.

A bird darted in front of me…another hopped across the path, a worm dangling from its beak.
Dogs barked. Donkeys brayed. Frogs squeaked. Motorised vehicles screeched along a nearby road. In a hamlet was a stone cross on top of a pillar on a three-stepped base. There were hórreos at every turn

More often than I had expected I was alone. Often I wasn’t. But by waiting just a moment or two for people to pass, I could be on my own again, and no one stopped or slowed to talk

By one small chapel a long line of pilgrims were queued up. Seeing the chapel was open, I was about to take a look, but I moved on. Two young nuns wearing white habits (bet they got dirty!) and red raincoats, who were standing nearby, informed me I could go and get a stamp from the chapel. I said, “Thank you. I can see there are young men smoking and I don’t want to wait with them.” They nodded in understanding. And I realised I had found an answer to a question Rob asked me a couple of weeks ago – is your Spanish getting better or do you just understand more? I’m pretty sure I would not have so easily come out with that statement before I came. Or when I turned up at the albergue today: Am I too early? I can sit down over there and wait.

I still find I’m surprised when I have a conversation with someone and they understand me, but I’m finally starting to get comfortable talking, and I often make small talk with someone on the street or in the supermarket for the sake of speaking. However, more often than not, I think of what I could have said AFTER we have finished!
Speaking of the supermarket, here’s my loot from today’s visit:

I really wanted kefir with strawberries and pomegranate seeds, which is as thick as Greek yoghurt….and I went to three supermarkets in search of it, but it was sold out in all of them! Rice pudding is a poor substitute.

I also went to this bakery. Rob bought some yummy-scrummy biscuits when we were here in 2012, and when we returned after the Primitivo in 2014 we were planning on buying some more, but the bakery was shut. Today I had more luck – so now I have to carry them for three days!

Wearing a raincoat with a hood (and not having much to look at) got my brain to thinking today. Americans have a hood on their cars, we kiwis (and I think English too) have bonnets. Both are items of clothing. Fancy that. American cars have trunks, kiwi cars have boots. Boots are clothing, but trunks (the variety you store things in, not the tree sort) make more sense. Trunks can also be togs and elephants have them too – trunks, not togs. All these T-words got me back to Tessa. You see right at the beginning of today’s walk I had passed this building:

My eldest daughter works at an establishment also called Essential and so it made me think of her. Actually it worked as a prompt to pray for each of the children and their spouses/special friends as I walked. I kept getting distracted and it took quite some time to get through them all!

For the second time, a couple came up behind me praying the rosary aloud, and as they passed and I noticed their beads. It occurred to me that they really are beneficial at keeping you on track…and using memorised prayers can be a help too. They are not necessarily the empty repetition they are sometimes made out to be.

So now you know what happens when it rains.

Actually, what you don’t know is I didn’t wash my underwear today, because the last two days it hasn’t dried and I would rather wear used than wet underwear!

Now you really know what happens when it rains.

R u sad about the close end… looking forward to coming home?

Questions from Rob this morning. My answers may have been sufficient, but they probably were not satisfactory.

No and yes.

I’ll explain more now that I’ve finished walking for the day, done my hand washing, have made some lunch and am sitting down to eat it at 2:30pm (while I blog).

That handwashing….I’m a bit over it! And wearing the same two sets of clothes for ten weeks is getting a bit old too. Squeezed inside a silk sleeping bag liner every night instead of cotton sheets is losing its attraction. And having to carefully watch valuables all the time, even while taking a a shower was never a highlight. But more than that, I have discovered I miss my family more than I had expected to. On past trips I have never felt ready to come home – but I have always been with family. This time it’s different. I have also worked out that I want to be writing and there has not been a lot of time for that (that is to say, I have chosen to spend time talking with others and blogging rather than writing). So I’m not sad for the end to be approaching (and I am looking forward to a change of pace before I head back).

I will remain “present” while I’m here and make the most of the opportunities that are unique to this time and place:

I will be grateful for the little things that happen….like receiving a hand written postcard at the breakfast table this morning – there was one for each pilgrim who stayed last night.

I will enjoy the different architecture…

…the churches…

…the rural scenes…

…the forest walks…

…the frogs…

…the interesting people…

…the quirky artwork…

…not having to cook…

…the shadows…

…and wearing a backpack.

There is much to enjoy right here and I am purposely not thinking about “what next” until I get home.

At the same time I am looking forward to being home.

And I really need a haircut!

And I’m hanging out for a spicy curry and roti.

PS I am happy to be surprised, as I was today….the last 100km is supposed to be crazy busy, and there have been patches of that. But today I only saw a dozen or so pilgrims as I walked from one “off-stage” village (where there were only ten of us last night) to another off-stage place, where so far there are only three of us. As I have sat here typing there has been a constant stream of people walking past, so there ARE lots of walkers out there, but somehow I managed to get in between the bubbles today.

PPS Will I miss this cute little rascal that knocked over my ink yesterday and tried to bowl me over this morning?

Journal page finished as the rain spattered on the patio roof

I really hope I walk through a chestnut forest tomorrow so I can turn the spilt ink into a tree trunk.

Until today my ink setup has worked admirably. The little bottle has a magnet on the bottom and attaches to the bulldog clip – I just have to be careful to hold it upright, which has not been a problem. What I hadn’t counted on was a cute little black dog bounding up to lick the bottle.

The next hour was spent in cleanup mode – journal, bumbag, shirt, skirt. If only I hadn’t refilled the bottle yesterday!

It had been a morning of ups and downs – just physical ones, no emotional ones! Some straight stretches. Some pretty views. At times even peaceful (but mostly with quite a few others around – my favourites were a group of friends from Tenerife who didn’t speak a word of English. I always find it easier to bumble in Spanish when I know it’s the only option. They wanted to know if I knew Tenerife – all I had to say was “volcano” and I was accepted!! They had just started in Sarria yesterday and were full of enthusiasm – especially when we passed the mojón that was UNDER 80km. Groups walking together tend to talk a lot, and this one was no different, but one of the ladies fell into step next to me. For the sake of making conversation, I told her how special it was to walk with friends. She agreed AND confessed she wanted to walk alone in peace, so I turned around and used my poles to bar the path – for some reason that made me the funniest person around. It’s nice to be appreciated!)

I ended up at this little place well before noon, but my Achilles suggested it would be wise not to go on…

…besides there was a very warm welcome

There was on-street entertainment right outside the door too…

…plus plenty of people watching. There was a lovely garden to sit out in…

…and a great spot indoors out of the wind

There was also a movie before dinner – complete with popcorn, and then dinner in the garden

(By the way, this is very boring storytelling, sorry!!)

The best dinner so far.

Platters of meats and cheeses and olives and pickles and membrillo and peppers and apple….followed by lasagne and salad from the neighbour’s garden and finally Texan Sheet Cake with whipped cream and a biscoff cookie.

The evening finished with everyone gathered around the table, choosing a card that explained what had brought them to the Camino (each story told in both English and French so it took quite a while) and then another card to explain what change we might take away with us. There were – somewhat predictably – quite a few tears shed. These evenings of vulnerability are very special.

When I got to Ponferrada, I had achieved my injured-Achilles-induced-goal. Everything else has been A Bonus. More recently I did not know what state I would be in after the O Cebreiro climb and descent, and I knew I could take a bus from Samos to Sarria and on to Sobrado Monastery, which I am very fond of, if I needed to. Judging by the line of pilgrims at the bus stop yesterday morning, I’d say others knew about the bus to Sarria too.

But I walked.

In fact I walked a little past Sarria, so I would not be tempted to call it a day there!

And I walked again today.

I was fully expecting hordes of pilgrims, but saw only a handful in the first two hours.

It was truly tranquil. Then I slowed down to sketch…

…and before you could say “Buen camino”, this was happening:

I started to think My-2024-Camino-from-Pamplona-to-Portomarín had quite a ring to it.

BUT…a few days ago I had started plotting distances to see if I could make it to Santiago by the 17th (five days earlier than my hopeful plan…..a full week earlier than my worst-case-scenario-but-still-manage-to-walk-to-Santiago plan, the one that would have had me walking in to the city and hopping on a plane to Madrid the same day….and just three days earlier than GraphGuy’s optimistic plan)

Why the 17th?

My brother-in-law and sister-in-law will be leaving Santiago that day, and I thought it would be nice to catch up with them. Could I do it? Maybe. Then I realised the 17th is the day GraphGuy is having his surgery. After all he’s done for all of us to make reading this blog a much more interesting and informative experience, it seemed there could be no better finish than if I walked into Santiago while robots were removing his insides.

Speaking of GraphGuy, yesterday he confessed that he had been updating the graphs based on the distances on a Camino app. Remember he does this for fun.

I sent him Real Live Data along with a sneak preview of the idea that I was thinking about choosing his auspicious Silly Seventeenth as my finish date.

By the time I woke up this morning, my inbox was full of reading matter and pretty pictures that meant I wouldn’t need to take many photos today and the blog would still look good.

Classroom Management 101 says don’t distribute handouts until you have finished speaking and taking questions, because no one will listen once they are distracted. Same must go with Guy’s Graphs – I’ll save them until the end!

If all goes according to my highly revised most recent plan, today marks the beginning of my last week walking to Santiago. That feels significant.

In an effort to bias for the best and not ruin my plan by not being able to get accommodation and having to walk farther and potentially causing injury, which could mean a premature end to the walk, I have even booked three nights.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The moment you have all been waiting for has arrived…

To reach Santiago

– 110.8 Kms as per Buen Camino App

– 7 walking days

– 15.8 Kms per 7 walking days AND YOU ARE THERE ON JUNE 17TH!!!

NOTE: Rolling 3 day walking KMs for past 3 days is 17.9 Kms.

This must be tough going however the end goal is in sight! Keep going but please only do so in a safe manner!

Buen Camino

GraphGuy

Projected distances:

Wednesday 16.2km

Thursday 12km (or 16.6 with detour to frescoes and stone effigies of knights) (incidentally this day I am onto the last page of my planning spreadsheet)

Friday 19.6km

Saturday 19.8km

Sunday 22.7km

Monday 4.4km

Given that I made it here today…

…that sounds about right.

Ten things for the tenth

Número One: Bedbug Update

I was sitting on a bench beside one of the main vehicle streets of Sarria finishing off the bread I bought yesterday (now stuffed with hunks of Brie and coleslaw) when I saw three of the guys who had scarpered from the albergue last night. I jumped up and called out to them across the street, “Hey guys, you are so lucky you left. Look, I’m covered in bites!”

“Bullsh*t” the ring leader shouted back.

“Sure is,” I agreed. Not one bite.

Número Two: Damp Clothes

When you see how close the monastery is to the river it goes a long way towards explaining why clothes that were perfectly dry when I laid them on the end of my bunk last night were damp when I went to put them on this morning. Good thing it was a sunny day.

Número Three:

For the readers of the blog, who do not know me in real life, I am not a cat person. When the cute little kitty with black patches on her back legs from that picture up there ^^ disappeared inside the building, I wondered if she would come out again…even though I am not a cat person.

She was curious…and cute…

…but I am still not a cat person.

Número Four: Walk to Sarria

When I wrote about “finishing walking the entire Francés route” when I had done León to Astorga, I had in my mind that we had walked Astorga to Santiago in 2012. Which is true – except that I didn’t! I told you yesterday about Tessa falling over at O Cebreiro on a Saturday. On the Sunday we walked 21km to Triacastela, and when she was still favouring her arm on Monday morning we delayed our walk until we’d gone to the medical centre. The verdict was she needed an xray in Sarria and so I took a taxi with the two little girls while the rest of them walked. We had been going to stay at Samos that night and then walk to Sarria the next day, but the others decided to do a double stage and meet us in Sarria. So I didn’t walk it. But now I have and I really truly have now walked the complete route.

Those who did walk, still – twelve years later – only remember how long it was! Maybe they can look at these pics and see it was truly beautiful!

So while the rest of the family was seeing all these bucolic sights, the two little girls and I, with as much gear as the others could stuff into Grandpa’s backpack and my own backpack and Tessa’s were at the medical centre in Sarria. Once a broken arm was diagnosed, we were then sent up the road to find a bus to Lugo to get a cast put on at the hospital there. Speaking not a word of Spanish apart from thank you at that stage, it turned out to be quite the drama!!

Número Five: La Señora Walking Down the Road

She was muttering something, clearly not having a great day as I approached. Simply wishing her a good day was probably not going to make her happy, and I didn’t know if she wanted to be spoken to, but I took a chance. “Excuse me,” I asked as we got close to each other, “is it five kilometres to Sarria?” An inane question if ever there was one given that I had just looked at the map. Anyway, she must have thought I wouldn’t understand, because she held up four fingers.

“Thank you, that’s even better,” I said, while thinking the map’s 4.8km was probably more accurate. Señora broke into a broad grin that totally changed her demeanour. Made me think there is benefit to the helper when they help someone.

Número Six: Felipe from Belgium

I was sitting on a ledge doing my little sketch for the day when a man asked in English if he could have a look. He then showed me a watercolour painting someone had done in his credential…and asked if I would be willing to do him a quick picture. Why not?

When it was done Felipe asked to say thank you with a kiss on each cheek. The European way.

Número Seven: The Lady Behind Me

While I was drawing an old lady called out of the upstairs window behind me to a guy working on the street

They had a bit of a chat that sounded like a heated argument that finished suddenly with laughter. Then she came downstairs while I was packing up. I wanted to find a Unicaja ATM, even though Google told me the nearest is about three days walk away. So I asked the lady, who by now was talking to the guy, who had just delivered clean linen to the Albergue next door. He confirmed Google, but she was insistent there was an ATM very close by and she gave me very detailed directions to get to it. Worth a shot. Not Unicaja, but fees free so I was happy. The route had taken me past a supermarket so that was useful for the €-situation too. After I had shopped, as I was eating my roll – just after the Bedbug Exchange – who should come walking down the road but this same lady, on the arm of her young assistant (something that is commonly seen here). She stopped to check I had found it. So kind.

Número Eight: Spot the Difference

Rob messaged me when I was in the supermarket. He’s been posting photos on our Gamily Chat when he goes to the supermarket and so I snapped one for him. I ten told him my immediate dilemma. Buy rice pudding or chocolate mousse? Rice would make a suitable breakfast I was reasoning, but mousse would be yum. I was clearly leaning towards the rice as I had put it in the basket. But a series of MOOSE memes made me question my decision. It’s not like I could just take both – they were each four-packs! But then I decided I could, and could give half of them to the lady begging outside! Win-win

Numero Eight:

On our first Camino we didn’t eat out very often, but the day of the hospital drama was one of those times – and this is where we ate. I remembered our then-ten-year-old sitting at the table towards the end of the meal and bursting into tears because his legs were so sore. He’s always been prone to a bit of drama himself, and on this occasion declared he might never walk again. His dear eldest sister carried him down the street to the albergue…and he went on in future years to regularly walk much farther day after day!

Número Nine: Walk On

Sarria is all about pilgrim commerce. You can buy anything you might need to walk a Camino and then a whole lot more. It’s the largest town just outside the minimum distance that you have to walk to be able to get a Compostela and so many many many people start here. I was keen to distance myself from those new hordes for just one more evening and so opted to walk on to the next stop in the afternoon. I almost had the trail to myself.

Número Ten: Swimming pool

Not a bad place to stop for the night. Cotton sheets on the beds. Only four sets of bunks in a room with two showers and a toilet. Wonderful wifi. Bar, patio, loungers…all for €10.