I wouldn’t call it a routine day but all went as smoothly as could be expected. Up and out of Terridillos before 7 am. And into Bercianos Del Camino by 1:30 pm
Never saw the rain, just the puddles.
Continue readingTag Archives: The Way
First day of rain, since the Pyrenees — and it mattered not a bit
Up before dawn in Fromista, a town with no there there, from what I could tell. Happy to move on.
Like a Peregrino pro, my bag was ready to lift and run with barely a zipper squeak to awaken my neighbors.
Open the front door and … FLASH! KABOOM! The sky erupted in fireworks and drizzle.
Back inside I was able to whip out my backpack condom for the first time. And it fit perfectly.
Of course, there was no more rain. Well hardly any. It began to come down just as I was steps from tonight’s lodging, the 90-bed convent Espíritu Santo in Carrion de Los Condos.
The sisters are marvelous, greeting each damp peregrino as if he or she were the first of the day. Many beds but spacious accommodations. And for your 10 euros, you get a Miraculous Conception medallion to wear around your neck.
My first coffee break came a half-hour after leaving Fromista. All over the cafe were placards with the number “58” written large.
“The number 58 looks like a spiderweb,” explained the owner. “They scare the flies away.”
Well, I’ll say this, there were no flies.
If you try it, let me know how well it works!
This walk was quick and easy, 13 miles over moderately flat country terrain. Mostly beside a highway, but with several villages and a riverwalk to add variety.
I’m going to fill in the rest as a picture essay because there is a Mass with Gregorian chant in an hour. My favorite music.
Leaving Población, we were given the option of a river trail or a walk beside the highway.
Duh.
I was with two of my favorite companions — Stephen from Ireland and Eduardo from Chile.
Stephen found a ring with three blue stones several days ago and he has been running around like it was a glass slipper, trying to find the owner.
Greta from Slovenia was sitting beside the river trail and …. The ring fit her perfectly!
Later, Greta told me the turquoise color of the stones matches the river Reka Soca, near which she used to live in Slovenia.
“I can’t wait to call my husband and tell him I am not engaged!” She added.
Leaving the river trail, we passed through some quiet and rather damp villages. There was a Celtic cross out in a field not far from the trail.
We stopped for a second cup of coffee at a cafe owned by a hilarious Brazilian gentleman. If you declined sugar with your coffee, he pulled out his blunderbuss pistol and said, “Are you sure you don’t want sugar??”
“Brazilians are the happiest people in all of South America,” said Eduardo as we left.
We took a short detour to visit the church of St. James in Villacazar. Foreboding on the outside, warmly inviting and modest inside.
Gonna need some new socks soon.
Walking the Camino with Whitman, seeking the poet’s path between reality and the soul
The land and sea, the animals, fishes, and birds, the sky of heaven and the orbs, the forests, mountains, and rivers, are not small themes … but folks expect of the poet to indicate more than the beauty and dignity which always attach to dumb real objects … they expect him to indicate the path between reality and their souls.
— From Walt Whitman’s original introduction to “Leaves of Grass”
Today is the day I found the path between reality and the soul.
To say that the path we walked was simply the most beautiful in all of the Portuguese Camino is difficult. There have been many remarkable sights. None, however, affected me quite like this one. Continue reading
Oh, oh, oh O’Porrino! Feel the petrichor!
Have you ever seen a more beautiful Roman path? Grape arbors on your left, stream on your right, ancient paving stones beneath your feet. And rain coming down on all. Enjoy, because I took very few pictures this day. A wet iPhone takes lousy pictures — when it works at all.
Tui to O Porriño (18.5 kilometers — feels like swimming 15 kilometers)
Did you ever want to reach back into the past and grab your younger self by the shirt collar and smack yourself up the side of the head for something really stupid that you said?
Yeah. Me, too.
The Me from September 21, 2019 — a few weeks back.
We were walking from Tui, just across the border in Spain, to O Porriño, about 18.5 kilometers away.
And it rained. Oh, man, it rained. All day. Continue reading
