The walk the day before had been one of the best along the way. Day 18, July 26, we'd start out in darkness on our way from O Cebreiro to Tricastela.
The walk to Tricastela is about 20.7
k, at least according to the book. But
the distance from the book to the road is rarely coincides. It is still dark as we step out, meeting for
breakfast at 6:30 in an inn which feels like a scene from a meeting of dwarfs
and hobbits in Middle Earth.
Over and over, the Camino helps us see we could be
and really are a part of these rich stories and trails.
Orange juice and café con leche pulsing through us, we wander out. The sun is just starting to poke up through the mountains, revealing something wondrous, fog filling the sky. It is everywhere. We really are on top of the mountain. Life offers few truths, but the view down a mountain certainly comes close.
We start hiking.
One of the New Yorkers greets us as we wonder.
“There’s a boccadillo waiting for you in the next
town,” he reminds us, and pedals forward.
That’s the beauty of the trail.
We never know if any of us will ever see each other again. But still we
meander down the same road, toward the same cities, crossing the same paths
which offer us countless meeting places to overlap or find respite.
All the food jokes seem a little petty. But some
suggest that the varieties of food we all eat tell us a lot about ourselves. So
they do mean something.
Its our final week on the way. We’ll meet the Stockholm Shepards in a few
days after their journey through the Portuguese way. Everyone hikes at their
own pace. We talk with some of our buddies from San Diego and Spain, chatting
and taking a break. She has gone the whole trip without her family, smiling the
whole time.
Number One and I wonder ahead, walking
together. I greet the trees on either
side of the path. She runs ahead. For a
while the road takes us up, but the final 15 k are a steep wind down between
forests and a mountain path. A Korean woman jogs by us with her backpack
on. I talk with a few of her friends as
we get orange juice. This group of five
have hiked all the way from St Jean on the other side of the Pyrenees. A part
of me wants to go traverse that first 68 k from St Jean to Pamploma on my
own. The first day is a killer everyone
says it. Yet, many have said it is one
of the most beautiful parts of the trail.
Everyone agrees.
“The trip gave me a time to think about my life,”
one of the Korean crew confesses as we wait for orange juice.
Number One and I walk, sometimes jogging down the
winding paths. She has been impressed with all the ways we can look at what was
there, the ways Europe conserves energy, recycles, puts out compost bins
everywhere, and harnesses power from the wind and sun. We both like the hikes
through the country, in awe of the old trees. The lessons of the Camino are many. We can learn to share more, talk to the
trees, be happy with what we have, use less, walk and cycle more, and slow
down. Always slow down.
One man picks up trash as he walks.
Another man does not speaks but smiles, compliments
me on my walking stick and picks up bugs from the path, so no one steps on
them. I saw him the night before looking at the sky, not sure if he slept
inside or out. But he looked quite peaceful.
The trees once again extends over the path, looking
overhead, curving, their roots meandering through the ancient walls from side
to side, taking us to the town.
More and more trees become part of the trail as we
wonder down to Tricastela.
Walking through town, we find Casa Olga where we
stay, meeting Caroline and number as well as a few other buddies in town for a
pint of beer before dinner. She’s
exhausted. But she’s made it another day.
The odd thing about the Camino is that every once in
a while, work from our old lives pops up.
I spent most of the night working on writing friends, getting soliciting
blurbs for my Rebel Friendship book
coming out this September. I wish there was room in the book for a chapter
about the Camino. Most everyone writes back saying they’d be happy to send
blurbs. So, my city of friends was
extending from the path to parts around the world, connecting me with them, and
vice versa. They are with me as I sleep, dream, and walk.
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| Meeting friends after a majestic hike from El Cebreiro to Tricastela, There is only a week left on the trail. |
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