chris

Well, I had every intention of taking a bus about 60km down the road, as I mentioned in my prior posting, but as it ends up, I only went as far as Villafranca del Bierzo, a distance of about 23kms.

My day started with a scenic walk through the countryside for about 8km to Ponferrada, where by chance at the bus station, I met up with Catherine and Alf ( who isn´t doing so well… big-time tendonitis, or something…).  They talked about how nice Villafranca was supposed to be, and after considering the rigmarole it was going to take to get me to where I thought I was going (three buses, taking all day),  I decided on joining them.  Sometimes the camino shows you the way…

From here, I should be able to walk the rest of the way to Santiago, if I average 27kms per day… should be easy enough to do… if I find myself struggling, I can always take another bus down the road a bit… time will tell!

Hi Folks!

Sorry for the silence, haven´t been in the frame of mind to put anything up!

When last I wrote, I was heading for Leon… the day was uneventful, however, it´s always hard walking into a big city… the pavement and sidewalks are brutal on the feet and legs!

The walk has been rather uneventful for the last few days… I´ve met up with a few familiar pilgrims along the way… Marcel a photographer from Holland whom I met and had dinner with a week or so ago… Joanna from Sweden and Sebastian from London, and another nice Australian couple Catherine and Alf, who recognized my pack, and correctly assumed that I was Christina´s husband!

For the most part, I´ve been walking alone, and at times, feeling a bit lonely, but socialize over coffee and the evening peregrino menu with familiar faces.

At times, the walk has been long stretches of walking on the black-top… km after km… and as a result, I´ve developed some sort of tendonitis issue that at first, would come and go… but for the last couple of days, it´s been more come than go… it was a bit brutal today, going from Rabanal del Camino, up and over the mountain, to Molinaseca… the terrain was hard on the feet and legs.  My little toes look really, really bad… layers and layers of skin have been coming off from the various blisters… I hope that I´m not doing any permanent damage!

Along the way, I passed Cruz de Ferro, the spot where people place the stone they have been carrying with them… it apparently signifies the letting go of whatever burden you´ve been carrying with you… I´ve been carrying a stone shaped like one of the many arrows we see along the way… picked it up about 400km ago… and I found myself in an emotional state, as I placed it on the mound under the Cruz de Ferro with all the other stones… with all the thinking I´ve been doing lately about my life, and feeling like I coulda shoulda done some things differently… perhaps the simple act of placing that stone will unburden me once and for all… leave it all in the past… begin life anew.

I´m running out of time here on the Camino… there is no way that my legs and feet can carry me to Santiago by next Tuesday without the use of alternative transport.  Tomorrow, I plan to walk 8km toe Ponferrada, and find a bus that will propel me down the road about 60km or so to Triacastela.  From there, I should be able to walk the 20-27km a day needed to ´get me to the church on time´ for lack of a better phrase… I will do this without shame or guilt!  🙂

There has been a sighting of my boots; apparently some tall, balding Irish lad name Antonio has them… if rumours are correct, he walked uncomfortably for three hours that faithful day, before realizing he had the wrong boots… another really good reason to take a bus down the road… at this point, I have no intention of giving my ´new´boots back!

Villalcazar de Sirga was my final destination on the night of the 12th, I stayed at a nice little private albergue that had smaller dorm rooms, and an OK pilgrim menu… I was so tired from the day, that I was literally in bed by 8pm.

The next day, I walked the first 10km or so with Richard, an ozzy who runs a commercial winery… it was really nice chatting with him, and I hope to meet up with him again along the path… from there, I met up with Christina, who was taking a break, and we walked the rest of the way to Calzadilla de la Cueza, where we decided to jump into a taxi, and carry on down the road an extra 15km to San Nicolas del Real Camino.  The albergue there was really nice, the beer was cold, and they did our laundry for 4 euros… a real treat when it can be done in a machine!  The other nice thing about the place, is that it didn´t fill up, so we had a 6 bed dorm all to ourselves… makes a big difference when you´re not in a room full of snoring old men!

I headed down the path with Ronnie and Noel, the Irish couple whom I had a few too many with, not so many nights before…  it was great seeing them stopping for a coffee at our hostel, as I hadn´t seen them since that night.  We parted ways at the next town, and I continued down the longest, most boring road I´ve encountered so far… it was like the background in the old spiderman cartoon… it just kept repeating and repeating, over and over… I was walking along side an old road on the right, and a row of trees, one EVERY 14 steps apart on the left, for hours and hours… of course, there are farmers fields beyond all of this on either side, but that was repeatative too…

By the end of the day, I had made it to Reliegos, some 39kms down the road from where I started… the longest day yet for me.  That makes my destination tomorrow, Leon, a mere 24km walk… might be done that before breakfast… lunch, certainly!  I was tired by the end… hope I haven´t ruined my feet for tomorrow.

Well, I´ve made it as far as Villalcazar de Sirga today, about 28km from where I stayed (with Christina) last night, a town called Itero de la Vega.

The road seemed REALLY long today, and my feet tired early, but I pressed on.  The next town from here, Carrion de los Condes, has a few albergues run by nuns who offer welcoming drinks… but my feet simply wouldn´t be able to carry me down the road another 6km. Perhaps they´ll serve good coffee in the morning… I couldn´t find any today.

With my tired, aching feet and the long road, I spent a good deal of time wondering if I want to continue down this road till the end… pun intended… every day seems to be a real battle with the feet, which takes a bit of the enjoyment out of it… perhaps I just need to slow down… do fewer kms on a daily basis.

Now, this walk is not a race, but on some level, you feel like you need to keep up with the people you´ve been walking with for the last two weeks… that being said, I´m seeing fewer and fewer familiar faces as time marches on… guess that really mirrors life; people come, and people go… and you never know when someone you´ve met in the past is going to show up, or when you´ll be presented with the opportunity to meet new people… met another Irish fellow named Mark a few towns back where he was going to stay… would have been great to share a pint or two with him, but there was just too much day (and walking) left… maybe down the road…

I walked alone today, as I usually do, but today, I think a bit of company would have helped pass the time… I felt like I could have used the companionship.

The weather, although a tad cold and windy, has been great for walking in… I´d be a happy pilgrim if I never have to walk a day in the rain.

Hopefully tomorrow will be better for me, both mentally and physically.

Stayed the night yesterday in the village of Agés, a charming little place.  I had opted for their pilgrim menu AND buffet breakfast… both were somewhat of a disappointment… such is life on the Camino… you can´t win them all.  At the very least, my clothes got a good washing for the first time in a machine, with real laundry soap, but it´ll take more than that to get the ever present stink out of things!  The beds were comfortable and clean, as were the washrooms/showers.

I was out the door by 6:45am, that seems kinda standard most days, and was off towards the city of  Burgos in the chilly morning air… it stayed overcast and cool the whole time I was on the road.  I walked in solitude once again, formulating and singing lyrics to a number of songs I have on the go.  The walk was pleasant enough until approaching the outskirts of Burgos, where you go through a bit of an industrial centre… not all that nice… and at some point, it was pavement and sidewalks all the way… a pilgrim´s feets enemy… I much prefer softer ground… my pace slowed considerably as I walked through town to the mega-Albergue Municipal (over 140 beds)… my resting place for tonight… I had hoped to go further, but my feet are pounding from pounding the pavement.

I´ve got a hankering for Indian food… wonder if there is something like that within hobbling distance of here… and a nice cold beer… that would be good right about now as well.

Hearing about more people being robbed back in Azofra… someone from Denmark apparently lost something like 400 euros… the bastards… it may even be someone ´posing´as a pilgrim or pilgrims, with the intention of robbing people blind along the way.

Close to 300km under my belt, and a little less than 500km go…

Had a great meal last at my albergue (San Anton Abad), it’s attached to a hotel and restuarant… the bread was to die for, and the waitress even brought me butter, and then more bread for the road!  The people were VERY friendly, and the old guy that welcomed me into the albergue in the first place only charged me one euro for the two hours I spent putting together yesterday’s post.

Decided to have breakfast there as well this morning, as it was going to be a long way (12km, 3 hours) to the next town, San Juan de Ortega.  As I´m waiting for the restaurant to open, I see Antonio approaching.  He looks likes he’s going to continue up the trail, and I talk him into letting me buy him breakfast.  He tells me that he spent a day being angry about being robbed, but that today, he has let it go.

I walk in solitude again, and there doesn´t seem to be many people on the trail at all today… I’m greatful for that, as I really do feel like being alone with my own thoughts.

On the camino, I’ve been giving quite a bit of thought to the last years of my brother’s life; how traumatic the experience was for me, and how my needing to care for Tim almost ripped apart my own little family.

The whole ordeal triggered unresolved emotions from when my mom died of the same disease, and a feeling of having to make up for not being there for my mom as much as she may have needed me to be… plus… I knew only painfully too well what Tim was heading into, and it tore me to pieces to watch him go through the progression of the disease… it literally devistated me… I was an emotional wreck doing my best to comfort/care for my kid brother in his final days… at the expense of ‘being there’ for my wife and kids.

In moving Tim to Ottawa, I had expected that he would have more of a support system around him, that people would be there to help, to take part in some small way with his care… after all… my family is usually a close-knit bunch, and some of them had been through this before.

Now, I don’t want to dredge up that whole era of my life in too much detail, but suffice it to say that I felt hurt, betrayal and abandonment towards some family and friends that I had anticipated would ‘rise to the occasion’, or at the very least provide some sort of support for Christina and I… as well as my sister, who was very active in Tim´s life.

I have spent years feeling negatively towards some people, and not others, and I´ve been doing my best to ´let go´of these negative emotions… to ´let go´of the hold the past has had on me.

I realize that it was wrong of me to have any expectations of help/support from ANYONE… you can´t put that on people… and it was wrong of me to think that people would jump out of the woodwork to help… people will generally do what they are capable of in a dire situation, and god only knows what might have already been on the various emotional plates when I needed them.

I certainly would have appreciated more help, and I´m sure Tim would have as well, but it was wrong to expect it.  The results of my expectations led me to feel anger and resentment, hurt and betrayal towards those whom I expected more from… and I´ve had little if any contact with a big part of my family, and some once close friends.

It was one of the most tragic events of my life, and looking back on that time now, I wish I could/would have responded/thought differently… and I regret for all intents and purposes, severing family and friends from my life… it was a ´self protection´mechanism, I suppose… I was feeling hurt, and didn´t want to open myself up to more hurt.

I´m willing to accept that people did what they could, and that if they didn´t do anything, for whatever reason, that I shouldn´t have expected any different from them… I can only appreciate and treasure the support I/we did receive.

I´m not sure where that leaves me… I´m in the process of making peace within myself and I have a need/desire to reconnect with those whom I´ve cut off ties with for almost 5 years.

The past is the past… I look forward to a future where it doesn´t have such a hold on me.

Maybe there´s something to this walking the Camino thing…

For some reason, I wake up full of ‘piss and vinegar’ as it were, and I’m raring to go.

I walk alone from Navarrete for a few kilometres, and then am approached on the trail by Alex, a local who asks if he can walk with me to the next town (Ventosa), in order to practice his English. I accept his request, and we banter along for the next hour or so.  His English is quite good, and he is pleasant to talk to… I enjoy the unique interaction.  Before you know it, we’re at the town, and part ways.  There is a restaurant right on the trail, and I stop for a yummy cup of coffee, and chocolate filled pastry… OK… I had two… and then was off like a bat out of hell for Najera, another 9 km’s away… I’m there in what seems no time… and without stopping, head off for Azofra, my final destination for the day; the guide book says it’s one of the nicest albergue’s on the trail.  Since leaving Alex, I walk alone, enjoying the solitude… sometimes I think, sometimes I don’t… I just walk.  I pull into Azofra at a bit before 12:30pm (while most of our viewing audience are still drooling all over their pillows back home in Canada)… I’ve walked 23 km’s, and my feet feel relatively fine… they are still sore, but my blisters aren’t giving me the grief they’ve been giving me for so many days… I could have gone further, but wanted to stay at this recommended hostel, and furthermore, I didn´t want to push my luck.

The place is nice, but not exactly the nicest I’ve seen… they do have internet, which I appreciate, and a small fountain/pool to soak your feet in… the water is icy cold, but refreshing.

At some point before dinner, I sit with Noel and Ronnie, (the Irish couple mentioned before) for a beer and chat it up a bit. It’s all good craic (fun), and I offer to buy another round… I buy a beer for Pauline as well (who is enjoying some solitude at another table). At some point she joins us, and we end up eating a pilgrim’s dinner together… and a few pints afterwards to boot.  Mental note: Drinking with the Irish is great fun… but you’ll pay for it in the morning… 🙂

I stagger into bed, aware that Ive consumed too much, but manage to fall asleep… the next I hear is who I assume is my roommate (two beds to a small room a closet at the head of each bed)… the voice says ‘buenos dias’, and I’m confused as to why he has awakened me when I’m obviously still sound asleep… I become aware to the activity outside the room, and realize that it’s time to get up… we start packing, and Antonio (totally Spanish speaking) indicates that his pack has been left half open, and that ALL his money is gone… 340 euros, not to mention the change he had.  Further communication reveals that it was NOT him that had said good morning earlier, that it had been a man looking at MY pack, when Antonio heard a noise and in his slumber, opened his eyes… the stranger in the room notice him, and casually indicated in some way, that he was ‘my’ amigo, and was just getting something from me, before casually sauntering out of the room… it was ten minutes later before the loss was discovered.  I felt violated, even though nothing of mine was taken, and felt really bad for this poor fellow… he was visibly shaken by the ordeal.  I offer him some money to at least buy breakfast, he declines, but asks a bit later if I can by him a coffee, which I do… after all, if he hadn’t woken up at that precise moment, the SOB may have walked off with something of mine as well.

I’m still kinda groggy from the evening’s ‘grog’, but head out at 7:30am for Ciruena, a mere 9km away, with plans to push on towards Santo Domingo de la Calzada, 7km after that.  I walk alone… feeling a tad discouraged by the morning’s events… I’m not in a good mood, and the walking is  difficult… I’m simply NOT into it.

The road seems endless, and the scenery not so impressive… I’ve got a bit of a black filter on I suppose…

I arrive in Santo Domingo de la Calzada, and it´s early… perhaps 11:30am, noticing that one of the albergue’s has just opened for business… still, I’m not sure what I want to do… stay, or press on.  As I sit on a bench contemplating my next move, who shows up but Layla (actually I think it is spelled Laila)… a common Comino friend of both Christina and I.  She has purposely ended her day’s travel here, because her guidebook says good things about the convent hostel, and that the nuns that run the place sing vespers in the early evening.  I’m intrigued by this, and happy to see a friendly face, so decide to end the day’s journey here as well.

Showering, shaving (at least my neck, as I’m taking the opportunity to grow a beard) and laundry have become my daily routine after getting off the road.  Then, it’s a quick trip to the local supermarcado for sandwich supplies… I had thought of going to a restaurant, but opted to make my lunch, and the next day’s breakfast and lunch at the same time.  After that I take a deep, restful nap that lasts hours, and I have to drag my huge butt out of bed at 5:30 before vespers.  Laila and I go together, she is really eager to experience this.  There where at least twenty nuns participating, and the vespers were more like the singing of prayers… it’s charming in it’s lack of perfection… shrill voices, coughing, etc… this is their daily routine, and we feel special to have witnessed it.  Right after the vespers are finished, some different lights come on, and a priest appears from the side door… there’s going to be a mass… now… I haven’t attended a Catholic mass in a long, long time.  I no longer practice Catholicism, or take part in any organized religion for that matter… still, I choose to sit through the service with Laila, who being a Protestant, is intrigued by the whole thing… the mass is familiar in it’s execution, even in Spanish.  At the end, the priest gives a special blessing for the safety of the pilgrims on the way to Santiago, and a song to that affect is sung by the congregation.  Both Laila and I are moved by the experience.

We walk around town a bit, looking for a suitable pilgrim’s menu at the local restaurants, and break bread together.  We run into Petra (from Germany) whom I´ve walked with from time to time, but she is missing her sidekick Nadine (also from Germany)… apparently she’s met up with a tent and guitar carrying pilgrim named Gary, and the two of them have been spending time together… such is life on the Camino.

Today, I felt refreshed, and was up and out by 6:30am… sandwiches in hand… I had been afraid I’d forget them.  Again, I walk in solitude, enjoying the early morning light.  I run into Pauline going in the opposite direction… she is done her Camino.  We chat for a few moments, hug goodbye, and vow to meet up in London.  Solitude is my friend… it gives me time to think, to reflect, to write… not many people know this about me, but from time to time, while working out some emotional issues, I write poetry, usually that can be sung (with a country twang…). Lyrics seems to flow freely on the trail, and I enjoy the creative process.  If only I had a direct line to Alan Jackson… I truly hear him singing my songs, and helping with the music in my head that accompanies them… maybe someday…

There doesn’t seem to be many people on the road today, and it’s quite windy at times.  I’m in the process of passing a young girl, and say a customary hello, and the next thing I know, we’ve chatted all the way to Belorado… sharing my sandwiches along the way.  Madeline (Madde to her friends) is from Switzerland, and we stop for beverages at one of the restaurant/hostels in the town.  She’d really like to have continue on, but had only slept 3 hours the night before in a car, due to a side trip to Madrid with someone she had met along the Camino.  I’m still full of energy, and continue on down the road through Tosantos, Villambistia, Espinosa del Camino, and finally stop at Villafranca Montes de Oca, for a total of 36 km… and my feet are feeling pretty good.

The municipal hostel is no hell, so I carry on down the road to private albergue attached to the hotel, a few steps down the road… it’s well worth the effort, and I’m happy to pay the 5 euros for tonight… of course the pilgrim’s menu is going to be 12 euro, so I suppose it all evens out in the wash… speaking of ‘wash’, it’s time to check on my laundry… I’m sure todays wind dried it hours ago.

Hi folks… losing track of the days here… it´s Monday, so that would make it day 7?  Yes… day seven.

Stayed at a nice little Austrian hostel two nights ago… think the town was called El Corton?  My memory is really bad for town names these days… lots of character, and delicious German blond beers… barely made it to the place, I was hobbling so bad.

Woke up with intentions of taking the local bus to the next big city, about 20km away… from there, I was going to look for new footwear, and generally take it easy… let the blisters heal a bit.  The masses in my dorm room started stirring early as usual, and so I figured I would stay out of their way for a bit, let the place clear, before getting out of bed.  Some time later, I went to retreive my laundry that I had left on the line the night before, and stopped to pick up my boots on the way back.  They weren´t where I had left them!  I searched the whole premises to no avail.  When the albergue was almost empty, there were only two sets of boots left on the rack; one pair that looked nothing like mine, and one that kinda looked like mine… light brown Keen´s, with a blue insole, size 42… only problem is… they weren´t MY boots!

Now, when people start out in the morning, it´s usually still dark; outside and inside… they don´t turn on many lights as to not disturb the slumber of weiry pilgrims… I´m thinking mine were taken by what  I have to believe, was an honest mistake… but what was I to do?  I had a bus to catch, and a camino to walk, and you kinda need hiking boots for the latter… so in the end, I got me a new(?) pair of boots… they are probably about the same age as my old ones, and despite being the same size, they seem to have a tiny bit more room in the toes… just what my aching pinky-toe(s) need!

I put the word out that my boots had been taken (by mistake), and I´m sure that by dawn´s early light, my fellow pilgrim MUST have realized his mistake, but who can be sure?  Perhaps I´ll run into my boots (and the fella that´s in them) at some point down the road, at which time, we´ll have to take stock of the situation… but I´m actually hoping it doesn´t come to that… I walked relatively pain free today, and I´d hate to give them up!

Any thoughts from anyone on what I should/could have done or should do?

Christina and I hope that our ramblings on this site are enjoyed by all, they cost a small fortune to produce when you consider it costs a euro for every twenty minutes, and I type a helluva lot slower than I walk…

Until next time,

Chris

Well, as Christina will atest, I can be my own worst enemy.

Despite thinking last night that I´d take a day to rest my weary feet, I arose this morning feeling rested, with feet that didn´t actually hurt too bad… and so… I soldiered on towards Estella, about 24kms down the road.

The scenery wasn´t all that great today, average really, a few charming little towns along the way, and relatively flat; no major mountains to climb or descend.  That being said, I found most of the day difficult… it didn´t take too long for my feet to start feeling sore, and it was really, really hot…

Estella looks like it has a lot of history, and the albergue I´m staying at allows multiple night stays… and because it´s Sunday tomorrow… I AM going to rest DAMN-IT… even the good lord himself apparently rested on Sunday, so why shouldn´t I?

Missing my wife… she´s gone AOL… under the radar so to speak… perhaps she´s taking a vow of silence for the rest of the journey?  Perhaps she´s hooked up with some handsome young pilgrim from Austria, or Denmark, or Germany, or (insert country name here), and can´t find the time to jump on the computer?  🙂  Or perhaps she is just enjoying the solitude of the journey, and taking a break from emails and blogging… which is totally fine… nice to have the opportunity to just ´be´for awhile… buen camino sweetie-pie…

That´s it for now… enjoy the weekend everyone!

Well, despite what I thought I might do today, I pressed on to Puente La Reina, about 24km from Pamplona.

Upon waking up, my feet felt better than when I went to bed, and I thought I´d be good to go.  I walked about a km before stopping to try a different pair of socks.  By the time I stopped for a coffee and sandwich another km down the road, it was time to try something different again… I ended up with my thickest socks again for comfort, but it comes at a price of feeling like my feet are in a vice… very tight, and uncomfortable on the end of the toes when going downhill.

So, in the end, I quite literally hobbled my way to where I am… the pain got progressively worse as I went on… and I was glad to finally arrive at the albergue (4 euros)… mental note… I seem to be spending more on beer than sleeping arrangements…  🙂

I´ve had a few people along the way showing concerm for my ´hobble´, and giving some advice on how to deal with blisters… they say the best way is to penatrate the blister with a needle and thread, leaving a bit of thread on either side, and the liquid will ooze out by capilary action… (side note… google the word ´penatrate´for fun… I did, to check out the spelling of the word…)  Anyways… I wish I had know about that trick before leaving… would have brought a needle and thread with me…

I can just hear Christina now… she´s saying ¨´you NEVER listen to me…´¨  🙂

She in fact, suggested I bring a needle and thread for just this purpose, but I declined, rationalizing that I NEVER get blisters, and that my boots were ´broken in´… folks… guys specifically… LISTEN to your wives (at least once in awhile…), they have wisdom to impart.

Walked, and by that I mean ´painfully hobbled´the last little bit with Layla… a nice young lady who stayed with Christina just passed Pamplona last night… apparently she had a really nice stay at the little place they ended up at… great hospitality and food… it´s funny talking with people who know of us, that we´re walking independently… sometimes they simply recognize the identical backpack… we just might be the ´talk of the walk´…

Well, I off to drain some blisters… Layla has kindly lent me some thread and a needle.  The new gel inserts I put in my boots helped a bit, but damn, it would be great to retire my current footwear for something more up to the task… I tried a few pair of new shoes last night, but my feet were so beaten-up, that nothing felt right.