My bunk-room mates settled the issue for me this morning in Belorado: Should I get up early for the 18 mile walk to Ages or start late and cope with the afternoon sun?
The rustling and zipping of bags, dropping of electronics in the dark, scurrying to the bathroom, the burst of red light from headlamps — it all began before 5 a.m.
That’s ok. I wasn’t sleeping much anyway.
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I pressed the pause button today.
I have walked 232.8 kilometers to date and I have 533.8 to go, but I am beginning to feel like the Camino Frances is walking me.
I am not walking the Camino.
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Last night in Santo Domingo, a woman from Wisconsin handed me a “tree of life” sticker which I promptly pasted on the back of my iPhone case. Next to the one from DeYoung museum in San Francisco.
She handed them out several of them to people in our auberge bunk room.
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It was a smart move to end yesterday in the little village of Ventosa and stay at the Auberge San Saturnino.
I got to end the day early and reorganize my backpack for the 30th time. Have I mentioned this phenomena? No matter how many ways I move things around in the backpack, it never gets lighter.
Science. So amazing.
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After enjoying the festivities in Logroño last night, I somehow had it in my head that a super early start was just the ticket.
Getting up at 6 am and leaving as quietly and quickly as possible is accepted protocol, especially when you are sharing a room with 20 to 30 bunkies.
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Today was a long one — 18 miles from Los Arcos to Logroño— but it felt like it took no time at all.
It was different from the start.
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Just keep on walking all day long!
Since arriving at Casa de la Abuela at 3 pm, I have checked in, made up my bunk with the sheet and pillow case provided, grabbed a responsibly long hot shower, gathered together the dusty clothes for laundry, hung laundry to dry, walked down the street for a cold Coke, booked a room for tomorrow in Logroño, discussed hiking strategies for tomorrow with bunk-room mates, answered e-mail, went shopping for trail snacks, had dinner with housemates, organized my pack for tomorrow…
Today’s walk from Estella to Logroño was 13.5 miles in 85 degree heat.
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It was a day of pain angels, steep climbs and descents, charming villages, persistent knee pain, and smacking good conversations.
Somewhere on the road, an ex-US citizen named Lori dropped in and deduced that my knee was in intense pain.
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The trouble with walking the Camino all day long and pulling into a new town is, you’re never going to get enough of it.
If you aren’t weary to the bone, there’s laundry to do, sore feet to attend to, a backpack to resort and repack, a communal dinner to attend.
Something. Always something.
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So, it’s my right knee.
These things happen. How? I have no idea. I wasn’t jumping fences or rock hopping.
I mean, this is the Camino, right?
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