A man and his wife and their dog go for a walk.
There is no punchline.
Stepping outside feels alien enough
Without turning it into something else.
San Miguel is pared to its essentials Continue reading
Tag Archives: walking
Best way to return to Porto after walking for two weeks? With a bag over your head
Overlooking some of the beach that extends west from the village of Finisterre.
Santiago de Compostela to Porto (160 km – felt like being in a sci-fi movie and life is playing out in reverse. Not recommended!)
There are so many ways to return to Porto at the end of your Camino walk. You can fly, take a train, take a bus, car pool (there’s an app for that) …
My advice is, whichever way you choose, put a bag over your head.
Sensory deprivation will be your friend.
Here’s why. Continue reading
A giddy collision of excesses, Santiago is no haven for reflection — that’s what the Camino was about
Of all the incredible, awe-inspiring art and architecture in Santiago, this sculpture spoke loudest to me. It is a powerful reflection of how our soggy feet felt at this moment. The translation is something like “Walk straight, walk upright,” as if we need that advice now.
A Coruña to Santiago de Compostela (7 km — felt wet and like it would take forever but, suddenly, it is over)
We have reached the end of our journey. We have arrived in Santiago de Compostela after walking more than 150 miles over 13 days through Portugal and Spain.
Words fail me.
No they don’t. Just kidding. Continue reading
Nothing to do for two hours except lie in the grass and let the mind drift with the clouds
This is me, as we wait for our auberge to open at the end of a lovely day hiking from Padron. Two hours of absolutely nothing. I kept track of the cloud formations and listened to my clothes dry in the warm sun.
Padron to A Coruña (20 km, felt like a constant climb)
I’m flat on my back. I can’t move.
Or, maybe I don’t want to move.
My boots are off. Yes, my boots are off. I can see the tips of my socks. I can smell them. So, I must have taken my boots off. Yes? That is a specific act. Not an accident.
My backpack is not where it is most often during the day: on my back. So, that too, is a clue. Continue reading
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
Slow down, walk in mindfulness, and the Camino’s hidden beauty is revealed
An element of a plaza water fountain in Pontevedra, in which the shape of the spouting water is constantly changing to some hidden rhythm. The statue of the little boy always seems to get his mouthful, however.
Pontevedra to Caldas de Reis (22.2 kilometers, felt like 22.2 except for a very flat stretch of open and empty road after the sun came out)
We awake to a different Pontevedra this morning. Last night, we walked through gray granite and stone canyons, brightened only by the logos and signage of commerce and colorful storefront pitches for their wares, and the occasional art installation. And graffiti, ambitious graffiti murals in fluorescent colors.
But otherwise, a gray city fostering teeming waves of pedestrian life along traffic-free streets.
Now, in the morning gloom, the rain and the streetlamps have washed everything with a shimmering amber sheen. A neon art project sings like an aria to the skies above. The pulsing cherry-sherbert lighting on a plaza fountain vibrates with a force unfelt in daytime. Continue reading
Trying something new: Booking ahead for a place to sleep
A lovely spring up near the peak of our highest climb for the day. The design invites you to linger, unstrap the boots, and dangle your feet in the icy mountain water.
O Porriño to Redondela (16 kilometers, feels like that)
After a day walking in the rain, you couldn’t help but admire the optimism that filled the auberge in O Porriño. Wet clothing was hanging everywhere. A carpet of wet shoes was laid out before the one window that offered sunlight after the clouds broke.
Just the same, everyone left the next morning with damp clothing and damp shoes. We all smelled like wet dogs. Continue reading
Tui or not Tui, that is the question
This image was taken somewhere between Rubiaes and Tui, so it must have been a very pleasant walk.
Rubiaes to Tui (20.3 kilometers, felt like: Meh.)
Odd. I have almost no recollection of this segment of the Portuguese Camino. Except that it crosses the river Minho into Spain and you must remember to set your watch an hour forward.
Or was it backward?
Well, as my Grandmother Agnes Reuter used to say when she was well into her 90s, “Bobby, I have my good days and I have my bad days.”
I guess this was just one of those days. Continue reading
Finished walking by noon? I think we’re getting the hang of this Camino thing
I was so taken with this stand of trees and the way the rising sunlight played through them, that I walked right past the arrow indicating our turn.
Day 4: Lugar do Coro to Ponte de Lima (11 km, feels like 10)
I awoke this morning without a trace of a hangover. Talk about small and unexpected miracles on the Camino.
Dinner at Fernanda’s table last night was an incredibly joyous gathering, fueled in no small part by bottomless bottles of wine, generous bottles of Tawney Port, and a clear liquid we named “Death In A Bottle.”
And singing. So much singing. And camaraderie. Lots of camaraderie. Continue reading
The Camino is never over, until it is over in your head
It was a chilly morning in Porto when we stepped out of our flat on Rue das Flores and headed for the Rio Douro. Thirteen days later, in pouring rain, we would walk tentatively but proudly into the expansive Obradorio Square, the end-goal of thousands of Camino pilgrims each year, in Santiago de Compostela, Spain.
The batteries in my Kindle and iPhone are dead. The list of in-flight movies sucks. And this is a very long flight, from Madrid to Cancun. Dinner, such as it was, is over. Blessedly. The duty-free trolley has passed by. I gave away my only two New Yorkers to friends in Porto.
The only thing left to do is write.
And the only thing to write about is the Camino walk we just finished between Porto and Santiago de Compostela in Spain. We finished several days ago but in my dreams, I am still walking: The landscapes are more surreal and with an unlikely set of companions. Most ridiculous of all, I am involved in adventures more fit for blockbuster action movies than a pilgrimage.
I can not explain my dreams. Continue reading
Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 